The Opera Ghost Busters
by DonLambert
Summary: After a tragic accident concerning a fop a long fall, the phantom is in luck. Christine is free. But things soon start to get crazy, and the managers have had it with the Opera Ghost. If there's something strange in your opera house, who you gonna call?
1. Forward!

The Opera Ghost Busters Disclaimer

Allison

I don't want to be sued, so I just want to clear up a few things:

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its adaptations, or any of its characters. *Sobs*

I do not own Sweeney Todd or any of its characters.

I do not own Batman, Batman Begins, or the Dark Knight or any of those characters.

I do not own The Ghost Busters or any of its characters

I do not own Donald Trump or Andrew Lloyd Webber or any other people I mentioned that happen to be real. And no, Joel Schumacher does not own 27 cats. I think. I don't really know. You don't even know what I'm talking about yet. Never mind.

I do not own the iPhone.

I do not own any other movies I may have mentioned or any of their characters.

I own pretty much nothing that I will mention in the story, except I do own a phone book, and I probably have some pomegranate juice in my refrigerator.

I have publishing rights to pretty much nothing. Where the heck do you find publishing rights? Just don't sue me. I don't have any money anyways.

I'm sure I could have made this shorter and sweeter by just saying "I own nothing," but where's the fun in that? I'm just being thorough. As you read, if you have any legal issues, feel free to return to this handy catch-all disclaimer right here.

I do own my story, though! No copying!

All rights to The Opera Ghost Busters belong to Allison, just not the characters she used. Except Jeoffery, he's mine.

I just want to let my readers know that my chapters are of irregular length, being from between 576 to 4,506 words, I think. They end where I think that idea ends, and not a moment before.

Also, the story isn't really truly a crossover, but it does have some other characters from other movies and books coming to visit.

You'll get the most out of the story if you have:

Watched the movie _The Phantom of the Opera_

Watched the movie _The Ghost Busters_

Read the book _The Phantom of the Opera_

Read the book _Phantom_

Watched the movie _Sweeney Todd_

Watched the movie _The Dark Knight_

If you haven't, no matter, everything should still make sense. By all means, don't let that stop you from reading on! Just some over all suggestions!

From the bottom of my heart, friends,

Enjoy.

And if you don't laugh, I'll give you a full refund!

FORWARD!


	2. All I Ask of You

Hi, I'm DonLambert, the actual author of the Opera Ghost Busters. Until recently I didn't have the internet and my friend was posting this story that I've been writing. But now I have internet of my very own, so I'm going to start posting the story myself. It was down for a while, and if you read before, I sincerely apologize. It's back now!

All right everybody, here we go! Hope you enjoy it

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

2. All I Ask Of You

It was dark and very cold as Christine burst through the door and on to the roof of the Opera Populaire. Snow fell around her and the thin red cloak was doing nothing to keep her warm. She heard panting as a breathless Raoul came up beside her. She was shocked at what had just happened, and knew that she must be shaking. Christine shuddered, she didn't want to appear weak in front of Raoul, but what had just happened scared her. During the opera Il Muto, after Carlotta's famous croak, Joseph Bouquet had fallen off of the catwalk, dead, with a noose around his neck. Although the managers tried to convince everyone it was an accident, Christine knew the cause of the head fly man's untimely demise. Erik. That scared her, deeply. After going down to Erik's lair she wasn't quite sure what to expect next from her angel of music, but that night was definitely unforgettable. Then of course Raoul had come along, her child hood sweet heart, and things were complicated. She had never expected Erik to kill though, not for no reason. Now she was extremely confused, and quite scared.

She walked over to the very edge of the roof, staring down at the city of Paris stretched out below the opera house. Muffled footsteps came up behind her, crunching in the new fallen snow. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and sang _Christine, Christine._ From somewhere on the roof her angel's voice called _Christine_. That did nothing to settle her. Music started to play, sounding all around them. It seemed to do that a lot; you could always tell when someone was going to burst into song.

Raoul walked in front of her, between Christine and the edge of the roof. He sang, _No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears, I'm-_ but before he could get any more words out, he took a step backward, and plummeted off the roof. His scream filled the night as he fell to his death. Finally the yelling stopped, accompanied by a sickening thud.

Christine immediately began to scream her head off. "OH MY GOD! RAOUL! RAOUL! OHH…RAOUL FELL OFF THE ROOF! AHHHHH! RAOUL! NOOOOO!" Running footsteps came to stand beside her, and she looked over to see… Erik. Forgetting her grief and terror for a moment she proclaimed "Erik! I knew you were on the roof… wait… RAOUL IS DEAD! AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Erik was just standing there, looking between Christine and trying to see Raoul's mangled corpse laying on the pavement below, wanting to know that the Vicomte was really dead. Eventually he gave up on Raoul's corpse and just looked at Christine. She had stopped yelling and now tears were pouring thickly down her cheeks. She turned back to Erik, looking at him out of her wet eyes. "Oh Erik!" She whimpered and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his middle and hugging him.

He stood there, slightly in shock, and said "Ummm…" She didn't reply, just cried into his shoulder. He decided that saying ummm again would be fairly pointless, so he just stood and let her hug him. A few minutes later, the door to the roof burst open and Andre and Firmin rushed out, looking shocked to see Christine hugging the Phantom of the Opera and the absence of Raoul de Chagny.

Tentatively Firmin said, "Um, we heard an earsplitting scream and then a bunch of sobbing and we thought we should come see if anyone died…and isn't he that Phantom of the Opera…why are you hugging him… I don't want to know…"

Christine walked away from Erik and over to Firmin, immediately starting to bawl again. "OH! RAOUL FELL OF THE ROOF! HE'S DEAD! AHHHHH! NOOO! RAOUL! And if you don't want to know then why did you ask?!"

Firmin looked quite uncomfortable at this, "Ummmmm…well I wasn't really asking…just kinda stating the question for my own benefit, you know, establishing it in my mind…yeah…well, such a shame to hear about the Vicomte…" He said in a murmur.

Fresh tears started to pour out of Christine's eyes, Firmin shuffled his feet in the snow, Erik stood there… he had had a plan on what he would do just a moment ago, something dashing to instill fear in the managers and sweep away Christine… but it seemed to have left him, so he stood there. Andre, who had been silent so far, thought that this would be a good time to exclaim "ACID!" Everyone stared at him.

Erik was the only one to voice his opinion by shouting "WHAT THE HELL?" Now they stared at Erik. He stared defiantly back at them, "What? Don't you think that it's kind of weird that at such a serious moment Andre randomly shouts ACID?"

Firmin had an answer to this question. "Well…you see, just the other day we were having lunch at this lovely little café, sitting outside and enjoying our money, when a brick falls out of the sky and hits Andre on the head. He hasn't acted…well…sane, since." Every one was silent for a bit, digesting the information. Finally Firmin spoke again. "Alright then, it seems we shall have to find a new patron, I will look into that. Um… yes…well, since Il Muto was a complete bust we shall have to find a new opera to put on as well. I would expect Carlotta will not be able to stomach another performance until she has seen at least five throat doctors and taken some herbal enhancers. You can star in what ever we put on, Christine, if you like."

Christine muttered a "Yes, alright."

Erik jumped at the words "new opera. " "I can write you an opera! Yess, I have a wonderful one I am working on…full of fire!"

At this the other 3 people all said "NO!" at once. Erik looked disappointed, but Firmin turned in wonder toward Andre. "Why, Andre! You said something that makes sense!"

"Bob cannot write the opera because I am going to make the green Jell-o myself!" Andre said confidently.

They all sighed. "Well, I guess not" Said a very disappointed Firmin.

Erik said "Really, it is a very good opera! If you would just…"

But Firmin cut him off. "Sorry Erik, I really don't think so."

Quick as a flash Erik drew his sword from its sheath, holding it under the managers chin, "I could always kill you" he said.

Christine gasped, but Firmin just looked annoyed. "Really Erik… please…well, anyway, we'll find a new patron, get Andre a physician, and find a suitable opera to perform. Oh, yes, in just a bit we'll host the big Masquerade Ball, wear gold, silver, white or black. Come on Andre, let's go now." And with that Firmin brushed away Erik's sword, putting an arm around the confused Andre, and walked off of the roof.

That left Christine and Erik alone on the roof. Before the silence could get a chance to stretch unbearably, Erik walked tentatively over to Christine. "Christine…are you, uh, okay?" He said.

Erik was scared of what expression he would find on her face as she turned toward him. What if it was one of extreme horror? What if she was incredibly angry with him? He might just follow Raoul of the roof…But to his surprise she wasn't even crying any more. It was hard to read her expression, it wasn't happy, more thoughtful. "Actually, I'm okay. Well, you know, not _okay_, but I'm not as sad as I thought I would be. It's kind of weird actually, like I'm in some sort of shock. Anyway… it's too bad they wouldn't perform your opera, I really don't want to do something like Romeo and Juliet again" Said Christine.

Erik smirked, "Oh, don't worry about that. They'll put on my opera, don't you worry…" But that did seem to worry Christine, and a frown crossed her face. "No, no, no, Christine, It's nothing horrible…no one gets hurt!" He insisted, "I'm just going to do some bribing! Trust me, with nothing more than a red suit, dimmed lights, and a trap door I can bend the managers to my whim!"

That seemed to relieve Christine a lot, she had brightened immediately when Erik had said "no one gets hurt" The silence began to stretch again and Erik soon had to stop it, it was getting unbearable. "Uh…Christine? Well… since the Vicomte is dead, and you seem to have no lover…perhaps we, err, I, um…" He stammered. On the inside he was slapping himself upside the head; it wasn't like him to stutter and now was not a good time to pick up the habit. He regained his composure quickly and watched Christine turn her head toward him.

Her expression was confused, almost sad, but her eyes were playful, as if she had expected this and was happy it had finally come out of his mouth. "Erik! Look… I'm mourning the loss of a dear friend right now; it's not the best time. But I'm not saying no…really, I'm not!…Just give me a few days." And with that she gave him a small smile before dashing off the roof, her brown hair bouncing behind her.

And now Erik was alone on the roof. He stood for quite a while, stunned. Snow swirled around him, drifting about the many marble statues. He couldn't believe it, Christine was not horribly angry with him! She was not tragically distraught over the dead Vicomte! She had actually said yes to his half-asked question! Well, she at least hadn't said no. And she had referred to the mangled corpse lying on the pavement below as "a dear friend" and not "my precious Raoulie-kins" All of those were incredibly good signs, and the Phantom of the Opera actually grinned.


	3. Concussion

3. Concussion

Firmin lead Andre into their office, settling his fellow manager into a big winged arm chair before sitting himself down behind their lavish mahogany desk. He laid his hands on the dark wood, smiling as he looked around the big, extravagant, Victorian office. It was nice to have money, he thought to himself. "Well, the first order of business would be to find a new patron…" Firmin muttered.

Andre replied, "Pickles."

Firmin let out an exasperated sigh, "Scratch that, first order of business is to find Andre a physician." So he pulled open one of the carved wooden drawers of his desk and rummaged around for a bit. Finally he pulled out two things, one was a thick addition of the _Yellow Pages_, and the other was a small devise he liked to call a _cell phone._ He had found them in the garbage dumpster outside the opera house and begun fiddling around with the futuristic devises. Once he had figured out that you press the numbers on the phone to call a number in the book, he accidentally called a Japanese Sushi Bar and ordered 30 pounds of spicy tuna rolls. That was only a couple of hours ago, before he had heard the scream from the roof. Now he looked up a physician, and, finding a suitable name, dialed the number. "Alright Andre, Dr. Peabody will be here soon to make you all better, and our sushi should arrive, too." Firmin told his confused companion.

Andre simply said, "Blueberry is a nice flavor of pie."

About 15 minutes later Firmin left his office, leaving Andre in the room and locking the door. He took the steps two at a time, dashing down to the main foyer. There were a few maids milling about, the doorman was vigilantly watching outside, but other then that the opera house was quiet and empty. Firmin stood for a moment, taking out an embellished gold pocket watch and checking the time. Suddenly he heard the doorman ask, "Who are you? What business do you have here?"

"Right on time!" Firmin exclaimed and pulled open the heavy double doors. On the steps outside the opera were two men, one was in a white doctor's coat carrying a fancy briefcase, the other was dressed in a Japanese robe and was struggling to balance 5 cardboard boxes.

The doorman looked stunned. "Who are these guys?" he asked the manager.

Firmin answered, "Oh, it's none of your business; they're just guests that I invited. Why don't you go on break or get a coffee or something."

The doorman just shrugged and ran down the steps to the café down the street. Firmin ushered the two men just inside the opera's doors. "Well now gentlemen, welcome to the Opera Populaire! Let's see, I'll take care of the sushi first." He took the boxes from the Japanese man and asked, "How much do I owe you?"

The sushi man said "5,000 francs."

At this, Firmin practically exploded. "5,000 FRANCS! JUST FOR %*$%$?* SUSHI! ARE YOU NUTS?!"

The man simply raised his eyebrows. "Well you bought 30 pounds of our most expensive fish." He said calmly, a sushi delivery man probably got that a lot.

"Fine! Take your damn 5,000 francs! I'm never buying sushi again!" So the manager ripped the money out of his pocket and threw it at the poor delivery man. After gathering up the money the Japanese guy hastily walked out the door and away from the opera, looking relieved to get away. Dr. Peabody had watched this all with mild interest. "Sorry you had to see that doctor. Here, I'll show you Andre." Firmin said, and led the physician up to his office.

When they opened the mahogany door they found that Andre was crouched on top of the desk, his hands in his armpits, and he was flapping his fake wings like a chicken. He repeatedly shouted, "Acid! Acid! Acid!"

Firmin rushed in, helping Andre off of the desk, talking to him soothingly like a mother would talk to a 3 year old child who had accidentally found his way on to the kitchen counter. "Oh, Andre, come on now. You're not a chicken, let's get you in to a nice comfortable chair, Dr. Peabody will make you all better." All through out being helped into a chair Andre had stopped yelling acid and was making soft clucking noises, like a chicken who had just been thrown off her nest and was harboring a grudge at the farmer.

Dr. Peabody went over to Andre and began to examine him. He asked Firmin, "Now, tell me, how long has he been like this? How did it happen? Are there any other symptoms?"

Firmin answered, "Well, he was perfectly sane, as normal as you and me, until a few days ago when he was hit it the head by a brick. Can you help him?"

"Oh yes. He just has a concussion. I can fix this in a jiffy." So the doctor took out his brief case and shuffled around in it. He soon found what he was looking for, and pulled out a plain red garden brick.

"But that's what hit him!" Firmin said.

Dr. Peabody replied "Oh yes, but with another hit on the head he should be back to normal. Well, he may still say some random things, but don't worry, that'll go away in time. He should be sane most of the time." So, with Firmin's permission, the physician clobbered Andre on the head with the brick, and stood back to watch the effects.

For a moment Andre just sort of swayed in his chair, his eyes only halfway focused. Then, he suddenly perked up and exclaimed "Wow! I feel wonderful! My, my. How long had been like that? What has happened? Oh, it is good to be back in my own mind again!"

Firmin looked absolutely delighted to have his fellow manager back and immediately launched into telling Andre all that happened. He ended by saying "And now the doctor says you're all better, but that you may still say some random things."

Andre sighed. "Well, all that's very interesting. It'll be hard to find a new patron. My, I hope I don't say too many random things, that could be embarrassing."

Firmin nodded, agreeing with Andre, and then turned toward the physician. "Thank you Dr. Peabody! Now how much will I owe you?" He asked, pulling out his wallet.

"Oh, just 5,000 francs" Said the doctor.

Firmin began to gag, the quickly regained composure. "Ahh, my, that's quite a lot for a simple hit on the head with a brick! Oh well…I suppose you pay for a quality doctor. I would never have thought to hit him again on my own. Fine then, take your money and thanks for your services." So Dr. Peabody took the money out of Firmin's hand, said a quick goodbye to both managers, and strode out of the office. Firmin turned to Andre, "Good to have you back then, my friend!"

Andre replied, "Good to be back, Firmin! Although when ever I go to that café now, I think I shall wear a hard hat."


	4. The Phantom's Prank

4. The Phantom's Prank

Erik was bored. He paced back and forth in front of his organ, racking his brain for something to do. He sighed, the only things that came to mind were the old stand-bys, write music, tutor Christine, sulk and/or feel sorry for himself, and haunt the opera house. He didn't want to write music, he couldn't tutor Christine, and with the Vicomte dead he wasn't feeling very sorry for himself. That left haunting opera house…again. So he grabbed his cloak, slicked back his hair, straightened his mask, and bounded to the waters edge. But before he began the journey up from the depths of the opera, he dashed back and grabbed something off of his desk. It was a book, _Haunting the Opera House for Dummies_. When Erik had first found the book in the garbage dumpster outside the opera house he had felt quite a bit of resentment toward it, for he was anything but a dummy. But he had quickly grown to respect it; it had taught him a lot. Even though he had already known ventriloquism, how to make the lights go out on command, and how to throw his voice, it had a long list of magic tricks and pranks that he hadn't known. The book had taught him how to mix the solution that had made Carlotta croak. So now he started up toward the stage, where he knew that rehearsals for the new opera should be starting.

Once he was up on the catwalk, Erik glowered down at the stage. They were, in fact, not rehearsing, but quarreling. Firmin, Andre, Madame Giry, Reyer, Piangi, and a few other fairly important people were standing in a group in the middle of the stage, arguing in voices so loud that they easily carried up to where Erik was standing. He sighed, apparently they hadn't the faintest idea of what opera to put on. "What about_ Romeo and Juliet_?" Firmin suggested.

Everyone groaned. "No, that's boring. Well, you know not boring, but the story's over used. What about something lavish and romantic, like _Faust_?" Offered Madame Giry.

Andre said, "No, _Faust_ is quite complicated, and we don't have much time to rehearse. I want the opera ready to perform by the time we have a new patron. A good one to put on might be _Tosca_, that's new and foreign, impressive and easy to put on!" Every one murmured their approval; they all seemed to think that it was quite a good idea.

The small crowed broke up, and Reyer could be heard saying, "I'll start working with the orchestra, if you could get the score."

And Madame Giry told the managers, "I shall begin practicing with the girls at once, there's a ballet in act 2 that will take a bit of work", before she dashed off.

Andre and Firmin stood together, looking pleased that they had finally made a decision. Then Andre suddenly said "Dance Dance Revolution!" Firmin stared at Andre as if he were an ostrich wearing an evening gown. Seeing the look on his fellow manager's face, Andre quickly asked "Did I just say something stupid?"

Firmin just sighed and told him, "Yeah, but hey, it's supposed to go away eventually! I wonder how long that will take…" Both men shrugged and walked over to a stage hand, instructing him on the props needed for _Tosca_.

From above the stage, Erik scowled at the people working down below. As he watched them scramble around he was thinking to himself, _if they had just preformed my opera they would be halfway through rehearsals right now! But no, they had to turn me away once again and now they're way behind! Tosca might be easy, but they've already wasted so much time quarreling! _Then he remembered what he was up here for, to haunt the opera house! Erik took out his book and flipped through it, muttering out loud to himself. "Hmm…no…no…oh! Wait, no…to violent. I feel like something humorous…I haven't had a good laugh in a long time! Well, actually I barley laugh at all…Ah ha! This one's great! But how would I pull that off…oh, I see! This should be a good one!"

So after studying the trick Erik threw the book aside, and prepared himself for the prank, it would take some concentration. With great pleasure he finally whispered "Alright gentlemen, I don't think those pants match your jacket!" and the opera house was plunged into compete and utter darkness. Several screams and quite a few crashes erupted around the stage. It was so dark you couldn't make out what color shirt you were wearing, or even see your arms at all. The Phantom of the Opera cackled softly to himself, listening to the turmoil happily from his perch. Then suddenly the lights came back on and every thing was back to normal, except for the fact that everyone's pants had fallen down around their ankles.(well, everyone except the magician him self's) It didn't matter who you were, you could see everyone in the opera house's underwear and they could see yours. That, of course, caused a fresh round of screams and lots of cherry red faces. In the rafters, Erik was laughing so hard that he was bent over double, clutching his side. He finally had to sit down to keep from falling among the chaos, and was fighting extremely hard to keep his hysterical laughter from traveling down to the people below him.

Firmin and Andre were in the middle of all the mess, and Firmin was hastily trying to get his trousers back on, wanting to keep the color of his boxers a secret. Andre, though, looked fairly at ease with the whole situation, and had made no move to pull up his pants. He gleefully exclaimed to Firmin, "Look! No pants! What fun!"

"ANDRE!" Firmin exclaimed.

The other manager shook himself, "Oh my! I just said something random again! Gah, this is embarrassing! Hey, my pants!" And he immediately pulled on the trousers lying at his feet.

Soon the excitement began to die down, although almost everyone was still blushing profusely. Up among the catwalks, Erik was still laughing to himself. The prank couldn't have gone better, and Andre! That was hilarious! Erik was sure he had never laughed so hard in his life, and made a huge mental note to remember this trick for whenever he was feeling down. (Next week, he guessed) So he happily began the long walk back to his lair, and uncharacteristically, he was laughing all the way.


	5. Man Eating Rats

5. Man Eating Rats

Christine sat in her dressing room, brushing out her hair. It was the day after the pants incident, and every one was still muttering and cheeks were still turning red as people passed in the halls. Christine had a fleeting idea to who was behind it all, although she wasn't sure why Erik would do something so, well, immature, to put it bluntly. Once her chocolate hair was free of tangles, she got up and slowly walked over to the mirror. Tentatively fingering the golden edges, Christine wondered weather it would be a good idea to go and talk to him. It had been a few days…And she was pretty much over Raoul now. But it wasn't talking to him that had her worried; it was making the journey down. What if it was dark and creepy? What if she got lost down there? What if he wasn't even there and she made the scary trip for nothing? What if a spider fell in her hair!? She sighed, she was being a baby. It was just the dark! Just spiders! So gritting her teeth, she gently pulled open the mirror, revealing the secret passage behind it.

To her surprise and delight the creepy golden arms were lit and moving. Although Christine didn't particularly like the weird torch holders, they would provide with the light needed to turn the underworld of the opera house into simple passage ways, and not a haunted house. The whole journey went fairly smoothly, because she remembered the way well. But then she got to the lake. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the vast expanse of grey-green water, how could she have forgotten the lake? Starting to panic, she began to mutter to herself. "Oh my gosh, how could I have forgotten the lake? Of course the boat wouldn't be here, Erik needs it for himself! Well, I suppose he does, maybe he has another way around the lake… Oh well, the point is I'm stuck! Oh great! What did I think? He would hear my sobs and come and rescue me? I should go back… just imagine how many spiders I have in my hair! And I'm talking to myself! Wonderful…" But Christine didn't go back; she just stared across the lake, not wanting to believe she had made the long walk for nothing.

Then, as if in answer to her prayers, she saw Erik coming across the lake! Yes, he was in his boat! Once he was close enough to see Christine he said in a surprised voice, "Christine! What on earth are you doing? Really, you shouldn't come down hear alone! I mean, I was just leaving to annoy the managers! If I hadn't found you, well you would have been eaten by the rats!"

At this Christine gave an earsplitting shriek and jumped into the boat, clutching the front of Erik's shirt as the little gondola wobbled back and forth. She stared into his face, her eyes alive with fear. "RATS! Erik, you must be joking! Oh my god, there are man eating rats down here!?"

He just smirked, "Oh no, not man eating! They only eat pretty sopranos! I would expect they're getting hungry…" Seeing that he was just teasing, Christine folded her arms and sat down in the boat, her back toward Erik. He rolled his eyes and turned the boat around; the managers would have to wait.

Once they reached the lair and Erik had helped Christine out of the boat, she turned toward him, frowning slightly. "Erik, that was mean! I'm really afraid of rats!" She said.

He sighed, "I'm so sorry Christine, but it only emphasizes my point. Don't come down here alone! If there really were man eating rats you could have died! You could have died anyway!" As he spoke he gestured for her to sit down, and they both took a seat at a table scattered with sheet music and holding a model of the auditorium. Erik continued, "But really, what did you come down here for?"

Christine smiled. "Well, you know that incident with the pants yesterday? Did you see that?"

"Oh, yeah. I thought it was really quite funny. Who ever pulled that off had talent!"

That caused Christine to roll her eyes. "Erik…come on! Who else could have done that? Besides, it doesn't seem like _your_ pants fell down."

He slouched back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look offended. "Hmph. How do you know? Besides, innocent until proven guilty, right?"

"No Erik! I know it was you! Please don't lie to me! But playing a trick like that just doesn't seem like you. What was your inspiration?"

He finally obeyed, and told her "Fine, it was me. As for inspiration, I was going to pull some prank and just really felt like having a good laugh!"

"I didn't know you laughed!" She said, amazed.

He smirked. "Oh yes, just not very often. I have to find something funny, usually. I can also juggle and tie a cherry stem with my tongue!" Christine giggled, and tried to hide it behind her hand with no luck. Erik brightened, sitting up straight again. "Hey! I said something funny, didn't I! Cool, girls love a sense of humor, right?"

This just made her giggle again, and this time she didn't hide it behind her hand, but grinned up into his face. "Yup. That's definitely a plus. Hey, along those lines…I was wondering, just wondering, if we could go to the Masquerade Ball together."

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened, which had quite an odd effect on the rest of his face. Christine let out another laugh, and waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Hello? What? Who would you expect me to go with? Raoul is dead, remember? Erik? Are you okay?"

He blinked, and tried to regain his dignity as best as he could, and answered "Oh, yes. Just slightly, obviously, stunned. Christine, of course I would like to…Oh no! I have to convince the managers to perform my opera! It won't work if I tried it any other time, ack, oh, I've been planning this for weeks! I never even thought…I didn't expect…I can't believe…God I'm beginning to stutter a lot aren't I? Christine, you honestly have no idea how much I want to go to the ball with you…but I already have my costume, I just can't…but I could always change, no, they would have seen me with you, it wouldn't be as terrifying…" He sighed, so much for regaining dignity.

Christine had listened to him pleading and apologizing and now was looking down at her hands, trying to hide her disappointment. "Oh. It's okay Erik. I guess I'm not all that surprised. I really do want then to put on your opera. But I who will I go to the ball with? I would look fairly silly going by myself."

Staring at her helplessly, he told her "Christine, I'm so sorry. Perhaps you could go with the new patron? No, the managers haven't even gotten around to looking yet. Well, you're so beautiful, you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone who would kill to take you to the ball" Erik insisted, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He wished so much that he himself could take her.

"Yes, is suppose you're right" Said Christine. They both sighed, and sat in silence for a moment.

Christine began to examine the model of the stage. It was quite realistic, little red velvet seats and miniature chandelier in all. "I love your doll house!" She said, "It's so cute!"

Immediately Erik jumped to his defense "It's not a doll house! And it's not supposed to be _cute_! It's a model, for when I design operas! Why on earth would I play with dolls?"

Christine raised her eyebrows, picking up a little toy woman in a lavish pink dress. "This looks a lot like a doll to me." She teased.

He snatched it away, glaring at her. "It's a figurine! Just a little model! Really!" She had begun to snicker, and Erik put down the _figurine_ and just let her laugh to herself. He sighed; this whole conversation was not doing a thing for his reputation. Now a rumor would go out that the Phantom of the Opera plays with dolls…great.

Finally once Christine had calmed down, she said "Erik? I should probably go. What was it you said…those two fools who run your theatre will be missing me? Will you walk with me, though? I don't want to get eaten by the rats."


	6. A New Fop

6. A New Fop

There were only a few days until the big Masquerade Ball, and the opera house was going into overdrive. Every surface that could be cleaned was dusted and polished until it reflected dirt like a mirror. Every time a new person would walk in the doors a maid would be there to yell her head off because they got mud on the floor. The guest would simply snap back that the floor would have been waxed again in 5 minutes anyway, and they didn't want to put on the ridiculous shoe coverings that were laid out by the door. In fact, everyone was avoiding the entry hall because they didn't want to wear the stupid blue booties. Most people were locked in their rooms franticly trying to pick out what to wear. Firmin and Andre were sitting in their office, and having picked out their suits for the ball, they were trying to get something done about the new patron.

"I can't find anyone suitable in all of Paris!" Firmin whined.

"Well then find someone form another country! Aren't their lots of rich people in Germany? What about Scotland?" Andre offered.

Firmin looked up a name in the phone book. "Here's a guy named Bennigan who works at a McDonalds in Ireland!"

"Firmin! We need someone rich, and a fast-food cashier won't have very much money!" Andre said, getting fed up with the whole thing. Neither manager enjoyed the prospect of finding a new patron, and with the ball looming ahead of them, they were both feeling stressed.

"At least we haven't had any trouble from that opera ghost! I don't think I've seen him since that night on the roof." Firmin pointed out.

Andre replied "What about that pants prank? Who could have been behind that other than him?"

"That's true, but we have no proof it was him. Besides, I wonder if even he could have pulled off something like that."

Said Firmin, while Andre worried, "Oh I'm sure he could. There's no telling what that man can do! I only hope he doesn't give us any trouble with the Masquerade! That freak popping up during the biggest party of the year is the last thing we need!"

Christine was walking along one of the many halls of the Opera Populaire, on her way to the entry hall. As she walked she was thinking back to the dress laid out on her bed for the ball, it was beautiful and flowing and sparkly, the only thing was that it was pink. It was a light pearly pink, with silver and white embellishments, but Firmin had clearly said "wear gold, silver, white or black." She didn't think it would matter that much though, it was very pretty and she didn't think that they would kick her out or anything. So what if she was different from the other guests?

When she got to they entry hall she expected to simply walk down the grand stair case, go through the door that led to the ballet dormitories and talk to her friend Meg, but she didn't get to set one foot on the marble floor. A maid came rushing up to her, screaming at her, "No! You mustn't get the floor dirty, we have so much to do to get ready for the ball and we can't be cleaning this floor all the time! Honestly, people go in and out as if they think that the whole opera house can just be a pig sty for the party! We must make a good impression! The managers ordered us to keep everything sparkling clean!"

Christine gave an exasperated groan, "Oh my goodness" And walked across the room. The maid was so busy ranting on and on about how much work there was to do that she didn't even notice Christine walk by her. In fact, she just moved over in front of one of the gold women adorning the banisters, so she could continue to yell at something. As she walked down the stair case Christine decided that she would rather take a walk outside then talk to Meg, so she went over to the doors. In just a couple of days hundreds of guests would be pouring through those doors, dancing and laughing and wearing their most expensive costumes. And getting mud all over the floor.

Christine heaved open a heavy wooden door and jumped back, a huge crowed of guys was on the steps. They were all holding flowers and shouting "Miss Daae!" "I love you!" "Christine!" and, "Acid!" Well, only one guy was shouting acid, and he was also wearing a clown suit. She just tried to ignore him, and turned toward the other men. "What on earth are you all doing?" She asked.

They all chorused, "We want to take you to the ball."

She raised her eyebrows and muttered to herself, "I guess Erik was right!" Christine examined the crowd; it would be much easier for her to find a date than for the managers to find a patron. She saw a young guy in the front with short blonde hair, a small beard and moustache, and brown eyes. He was wearing a nice black suit and held out a single pink rose. She pointed to him, saying "Alright, I guess you'll do."

There was a collective "Darn!" from the crowd of men as he hurried forward, kissing her lightly on the hand and telling her "Ah! Thank you Mademoiselle! May I say, you look lovely."

She gave him a small smile and said "Thanks. Well, I'll see you at the ball then. Make sure you wear something nice and don't be late!" And with that she turned away, walking back across the foyer. Now she could go talk to Meg. It was only once she was gossiping to her friend that she realized she didn't even know the guy's name.

Erik examined his costume for the Masquerade. It was the brightest and richest blood red you could imagine, and had gold embellishments on the front of his chest. He had a very cool mask, and when his eyes were rimed with black, red death could frighten anyone into performing his opera. At first he was worried that the whole ensemble wasn't menacing enough, but he soon figured that he would stand out so much from the crowd that he really didn't need to worry about that. In fact, he would clash so much with the rest of the guests that they would probably still take him seriously if he started to speak in Russian. Besides, Christine wasn't following the dress code either, her dress was pink. (Not that he had been spying on her through the mirror or anything…) He carefully put away his suit, folding it carefully so that it would be perfect for the ball tomorrow. Walking up out of his dungeon, Erik hopped he could pull a few more pranks on the managers, not wanting the pair to think he had forgotten about them.


	7. Paper Faces on Parade

7. Paper Faces on Parade

The big night was finally here! Fireworks exploded in the distance as people streamed into the opera house, laughing and talking as they climbed out of carriages. The opera house was sparkling, and people were ready to dance and sing. Guests were taking off their coats as they entered the doors to reveal their glittering costumes. Everywhere was a flurry of black, white, and gold, and there were masks on everyone's faces and funny hats on all their heads.

Andre and Firmin walked proudly up the steps, arm in arm with their dates, happily singing, "_Dear Andre what a splendid party, the prologue to a bright new year. Quite a night, I'm impressed. Well one does one's best! Here's to us. The toast of all the city, what a pity that the phantom can't be here_!"

They joined the crowd inside, which had begun to dance and sing a song which went something like "_Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you_." It was all great fun, although Christine, who was standing to the side waiting for what's-his-name, had to ask herself "did they rehearse this before or is it just spontaneous?" Everyone kept perfect time to the music, twirling around the opera house like Madame Giry's ballet girls.

Just then Christine's date ran up to her, He wore a black and gold tux with big bunches of lace at his throat and wrists. A small golden mask covered only the top of his face. The only reason Christine recognized him was the white-blonde hair sticking out from under his French cocked hat. He looked like one of the old-time highwaymen that would rob stagecoaches. (Not a bad look for him, but to Christine it screamed "FOP!") He bowed and kissed her hand, telling her "Mademoiselle, I am so sorry I'm late! I have been looking for you for the longest time, please forgive me. You know, that dress does look stunning on you!"

Christine accepted his apologies and returned his smiles, at least he was full of compliments. But Erik's compliments were more sincere, and Erik would never dare be late for something like this. Nor would he dress like such a fop, but he had to go be all scary. No, he couldn't dance with Christine and then be scary…oh well. Christine asked the man "Well, monsieur, before we dance I would like to at least know your name!"

He blinked, looking slightly shocked under the mask. Apparently he had forgotten that he had yet to introduce himself, and told her, "Oh! My name is Jeoffery Charuse, I am from England where my father is the Senior Undersecretary to the King, and I am a Fop!"

It seemed Christine was right, the man was a fop, but his father…that gave her an idea. "Your father sounds like he is, er, well off, and the opera house needs a patron…would you consider?" She wouldn't have asked, but the managers were getting incredibly annoying and she thought finding a patron would solve some problems. But the man was such a fop! Why was she always stuck with theses horrific pansies? Perhaps if he was the patron he would stay out of her life.

Jeoffery said "Hmm, I shall consider, but now my dear, shall we dance?"

Christine followed him into the crowed, where they danced along with the rest, observing everyone's costumes and movements. There was one man that had a black and white suit that looked like it was made of big balls of rabbit fur, and Christine was so intrigued that she had to reach out and pet it before the man turned away. That earned her a very odd look from Jeoffery. Then a group of people in formation on the stairs began to sing once again, and Christine and Jeoffery stood back to watch. "They're so amazingly choreographed! How do they do that without practice?" Christine wondered out loud, a big smile on her face.

Not everyone was dancing, the managers, Carlotta, Piangi, Madame Giry and Meg were all standing to the side watching and listening as the dancers sang "_Masquerade, burning glances, turning heads. Masquerade, stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you_."

Then suddenly, as they sang, "_Masquerade, Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you_" the lights went dim, the hall got silent, and everyone turned their head toward the top of the right wing of staircases, where stood Red Death. Red Death was of course, Erik, wearing his red suit and skull mask, smirking proudly down at the astonished crowed. _Perfect_, he thought to himself, _they_ _are in awe_. For a moment he considered speaking in Russian, just to see if they would still stand there staring, jaws hanging open so far they could have caught birds. But he decided against it, and walked down the stairs, every footstep a beat in the menacing music playing in the background. (Is it me or is he going to burst into song?)

Indeed, he started singing, "_Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me good messieurs? I have written you an opera. Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!" _At which he threw the score down on the stairs, at the manager's feet. Embossed on the front of the leather cover were the words Don Juan. "_Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts. Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting round the stage." _At which he used his sword to ruffle the feathers on Carlotta's elaborate hat. "_Our Don Juan must lose some weight; it's not healthy, in a man of Piangi's age." _At which he stuck his sword in Piangi's belly as the man tried to defend Carlotta. "_And my managers must learn, that their place is in an office, not the arts." _At which he held his sword under both of their chins in turn, as he had done to Firmin on that night on the roof. Then, he sheathed his sword, turned to Christine and sang, "_As for our star, Miss Christine Daae. No doubt she'll do her best, it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn. If pride will let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher."_

All eyes were on Christine and Erik as they took a step toward each other, staring into the others faces, lost in their gaze, and the opera house seemed to dissolve away. Erik's mind was racing, when he had first formulated this entire plan, he had imagined that the Vicomte would still be alive and that this would be an excellent time to let everyone know that she belonged to him. But there was no ring to rip from her neck, and he was trying to think of something to say.Then, as he looked into her eyes, it seemed that Christine understood and was pleading for him to understand, this silent communication said everything and she gave him the smallest but most sincere smile he had ever received. He returned it with the most discrete nod, and then saw Jeoffery out of the corner of his eye. The poor man was watching the pair with a look of utmost astonishment, which turned to terror as Red Death fixed his black rimmed eyes on him and violently said "Watch out boy, she belongs to me!" Then, with every pair of eyes following him, Erik turned and ran up the steps to the landing, where he turned and with a final glance at Christine, twirled his cape before disappearing through a circular trap door in a flurry of fire.

Every one in the opera house gasped, and a few screamed, as he disappeared through the floor. Jeoffery, in attempt to be valiant, started to dash to the trap door, but Christine grabbed his arm, dragging him back. "No Jeoffery! You can't go down there, please, you don't know what'll happen to you! You could die!" She said, but as the words you could die came out of her mouth she let him go, thinking that it wouldn't be that bad if he fell to his death. Unfortunately the trap door had already closed, so he trudged back down the stairs.

People were beginning to mutter and scramble around, searching for an explanation to what had just happened. Firmin spoke up above the crowd and said "Well, my dear guests, I am so, err, sorry for the, um, interruption. Oh my…I suppose the party's over then…how awkward. Please! I do apologize…" He trailed off, his voice lost over the disappointed murmur of the guests.

Andre, who was looking very annoyed, turned to Firmin and said, "I've had just about enough of that Opera Ghost!"


	8. Firmin's Proposal

8. Firmin's Proposal

It was two days after the big Masquerade, and the managers were almost wishing they were back in the junk business. Oh, excuse me, "scrap metal" business. Firmin was slouched over his desk and Andre was pacing back and forth in front of the window, ranting about the ball, the search for a patron, and Erik. "He's making fools out of us! He shows up during the opera's biggest party of the year and ruins it, then expects us to put on his freak opera! I mean, we'll have to perform it; I've no doubt he'll sneak up during the night and kill us in our sleep if we reject it. It's quite and odd opera though, bad publicity! And his pranks are getting increasingly annoying, that pants incident was incredibly embarrassing, and I'll bet it was him giving us all those prank calls! But where would he get a cell phone? Oh well, the point is that it has to be stopped! We must take action to get rid of this horrible Phantom, he's turning us and the Opera Populaire into a mockery and I won't stand it!"

Firmin, who had practically been asleep out of utter exhaustion, raised his head up and wearily said "Yes Andre, I agree…" and then put his head on the desk again. He really needed to fix their coffee machine.

Andre continued yelling, "He has given us a reputation that will never allow us to find a new patron! And we need one, our funding is way down and if we want to put on _Tosca_ and then _Don Juan_ then we'll need to find some way of getting extra money! We've a better chance of winning the lottery then finding a wealthy patron!"

Firmin said, his eyes only half open, "Yes…new patron… money… coffee… oh…"

Andre turned to Firmin in an outrage, "Good god Firmin, this isn't a time to sleep! Look, I'll order you an espresso. Where is the cell phone?" Eyes closed, a strand of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth, Firmin unconsciously rummaged in a drawer and pulled out the phone, handing it to Andre. Once the conscious manager called Starbucks, ordered a shot-in-the-dark, and picked it up from a delivery man at the front doors, Firmin was completely asleep and snoring loudly. Andre walked back into the office and shook Firmin awake, handing him the espresso. That woke him up quickly, and once he had drained the Styrofoam cup he was arguing with Andre once again. They began by getting into a big fight on weather they should perform _Don Juan _or not. Andre was quite convinced that if they did not perform it they would be killed by the opera ghost, and that the show would bring some variety to the season's operas. Firmin argued that it would send a bad impression to faithful opera-goers, and that if it was preformed they would lose all their customers. They both agreed, though, that their funds were uncomfortably low, and it was almost time to pay the phantom his outrageous 20,000 francs. That got them yelling at each other again, this time about the new patron they were so desperately in need of.

Just then Christine's date for the ball, Jeoffery, opened the door. He looked extremely surprised and embarrassed to walk in and find the managers standing up, both with red faces and murderous expressions, Andre's arms thrown up over his head, Firmin holding a baseball bat. He stammered, "Oh…I suppose this isn't the restroom, is it? Sorry about that…"

But on seeing him, both managers calmed down, lowered their hands and put down their weapons. They strode over to him, delighted expressions on their faces. Firmin exclaimed "Jeoffery, my lad! It is Jeoffery, isn't it? Ah yes! Well, why don't you have a seat, we can talk!"

Jeoffery looked taken back at this, he hadn't expected to run into the managers at all and yet he found his way into a chat in their office. He replied, "Oh, um, yes, well…I was just on my way to the bathroom so if I could do that first and then come back to talk? I'll only be a moment!" And he dashed out of the office.

Andre turned to Firmin. "What was that about? Why do we need to talk to the boy?"

"Andre, don't you see? He may be a good patron! I've seen him around, and he went to the Masquerade with Christine Daae. Apparently his father's very high up in England; they've probably got plenty of money!" Firmin said.

Andre raised his eyebrows and nodded in approval, saying "You may be right Firmin! We'll see when he gets back." There was a pause where both managers were silent for a moment, and then Andre blurted out, "Good god, how long does it take to go to the bathroom?"

"Maybe he got lost again and stumbled off the roof" Firmin joked.

"Funny. The last thing we need is another body to scrape off the sidewalk; we had a long enough police enquiry with Raoul" Replied Andre.

At this Jeoffery burst back in through the door. Firmin gestured for him to sit down, and pulled up chairs for Andre and himself behind the big desk. He told Jeoffery, "Well now, what took you so long? We were just beginning to think you had fallen off the roof!"

At this Jeoffery flushed and muttered, "Oh, no, I just had a little trouble with the automatic hand dryer. Powerful thing, that is. But anyways…you wanted to talk?"

Firmin said "Yes, we just want to ask some questions and then I have a little proposition for you" but Andre said "Let's barbeque Tarzan!" That didn't faze Firmin, but Jeoffery had the same expression of surprise on his face again.

Firmin explained, "Oh don't worry, he had a concussion a little while back, so he still says some random things. You'll learn to ignore them."

Andre said "Yes, I'm quite sorry. If I say something embarrassing please assume it's because of the concussion." Jeoffery seemed reassured, so the managers turned to each other and Andre asked, "So, who should question him? Probably you, it was your brilliant idea after all." Firmin agreed and turned to Jeoffery.

"Alright Jeoffery, please, listen and do not interrupt unless what I say is incorrect. I believe I am right in saying that you are Jeoffery Charuse, you are from England, and your father is senior undersecretary to the king." Jeoffery nodded his blonde head and Firmin continued "Okay, now I'm going to ask some questions. Do you have a title?"

"No, but my father is a count, and my old brother is the vicomte. My brother is deathly sick with cancer though! I came to Paris to find an oncologist, but the doctor told me it was too late and that he only had a couple of weeks. When he dies I shall be the vicomte, not to mention inherit a lovely set of china dishes."

"Very well. Now, does your family have a lot of money?"

"Oh yes! My father is quite wealthy and we take great pride in supporting the arts."

"Good! Do you have insurance?"

"Yes! Nation Wide is on my side!"

"All right, anything else you want us to know?"

"No, but I wonder why you are asking me all these questions."

Positively brimming with excitement and anticipation, Firmin got down on one knee, and in one hand he held a contract, in the other a ball point pen, "Will you be the Opera Populaire's patron?" He proposed.

Jeoffery, looking flabbergasted but pleased, exclaimed, "Yes!" and snatched the pen and legally binding document from Firmin's hand.


	9. Angel of Music

9. Angel of Music

Christine flipped through the pages of her _The New Yorker_ magazine, looking for an interesting article. She sighed, "Hmm, stock prices are up in California. As if I care. Why is there never anything good in here?" She tossed aside the magazine and stared into the flame of one of the many candles in her room, thinking to herself. It was extremely boring, and Christine wished she could talk to Erik. She hadn't seen him since the masquerade and there was so much to tell him, but she wasn't about to try to go down to his lair, he had gotten angry enough with her last time.

Suddenly, the candles blew out on their own, and miraculously, a voice rang out around Christine. "_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor sharing in my triumph."_

Exasperatedly she said, "Erik, we've already done this once!"

"Come on Christine, you know the words! _Angel of music guide and guardian, grant to me your glory. _You know you want to sing!" Said Erik.

Christine answered, "Oh, just open the mirror and get on with it!"

So Erik slowly pulled open the mirror and offered her his gloved hand. She gratefully took it and let him lead her down the passageways to his lair. On the way he told her, "Christine, did you know that stock prices are up in California?"

At this she just rolled her eyes and answered "Tell me something I don't know." Once they were down to his lair Christine asked Erik, "Could we perhaps have some tea?"

He frowned, "I do not drink tea."

"Well then what do you drink?" she asked.

"Black coffee, Red wine, and, umm… pomegranate juice." Erik told her. She requested the last one and sat down to wait for him.

He returned with a glass for each of them and Christine immediately began to talk. "Well, a lot has happened hasn't it? The Masquerade was good, you were very scary! How do you think it went?"

"I was pleased with it; I think the managers shall most definitely be performing _Don Juan_. Who was your date?" he asked.

"Oh, his name is Jeoffery. I couldn't go alone, so I just picked a random guy. You were right, I had plenty of options. But anyway, at first I thought he was alright, but now he can be a bit annoying. He thinks I love him, when I most certainly don't. I mean, he's even more of a fop then Raoul was, if that's even possible. Here's the worst part though, he's the Opera Populaire's new patron!" Said Christine.

Erik raised an eyebrow, "He's the new patron? Oh great, that's just what we need, another pansy funding the opera house. At least the managers finally got around to asking someone though. So you say you really don't like him?"

"Ah yes. He won't leave me alone!" She said.

Tentatively, Erik told her "Well, if you want, I could always kill him for you."

Christine's eyes widened and she hurriedly said "NO ERIK! Please don't, you really should try to stop killing people!"

He sighed, looking guiltily down at the floor. "I know, I know. I'm trying to quit, but it's really hard! Look, I even bought this gum to help me!" He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cinnamon Nicorete Stop Smoking Gum.

Christine sighed. "Oh Erik, that's for smoking!"

He stared at in wonder. "So that's why it hasn't suppressed my murderous urges. Huh. Oh well, it does taste good" He said as he put it back in his pocket, then he turned back to Christine. "Really, if he's annoying you, it would be easy for me to get rid of him!"

"ERIK NO!" she said, even more firmly this time. "Don't even think about it! Look, if you do anything to harm Jeoffery I'll tell the entire opera house that you wear your mom's underwear!"

He gaped at her, "WHAT!?"

Christine blushed and quickly said "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I used that threat on Raoul once, and actually found out later that it was true. I'm sorry; I meant that you play with dolls. If you harm Jeoffery I'll tell the entire opera house that the Phantom of the Opera plays with dolls."

He sighed, "Christine we've been through this already, they're just figurines! But don't worry, I won't touch Jeoffery." She smiled and nodded, but he continued "Why are you even defending him anyway, I thought you didn't like the guy."

"I don't Erik, but I'm trying to protect you. The managers are getting really fed up with you, I overheard them saying that they're thinking about 'Calling an exterminator to get rid of the Opera Populaire's pest.' That sounds like they're talking about you."

"Pest! I am not a pest. They must be talking about my rats. Beside, they can't get rid of me. They should have read the fine print when they signed up for the position of manager, I come with the job and there's nothing they can do about it." He told Christine confidently.

She couldn't argue with this, so they both fell silent. Christine decided to try the juice he had brought her, and found that it was actually really good. She drained the rest of the glass and set it back on the table with a contented sigh. Erik noticed the empty glass and asked "Do you want more?" She nodded and he left to refill their cups. Christine looked around the desolate cave her angel called home, it was extremely messy. She wondered whether he had ever heard of spring cleaning. It smelled good though, like vanilla and roses and fog, if fog had a smell. The whole place seemed to calm her, and when Erik came back with more pomegranate juice she was smiling to herself. He stared at her, his dark gray-green eyes absorbed in her face, finding it hard to look at anything else. He finally asked her, "Why are you smiling like that?"

Christine looked up at him, "I don't know, I like it down here."

Erik seemed absolutely amazed by this. "You like it? But it's dark and wet and musty!"

"It smells good." She replied.

"Oh. Well, I suppose." He said.

Christine's smile still hadn't faded, and she said "I have a question. Why is it that when Raoul fell off the roof there was a huge police enquiry, but when you strangled Bouquet, the managers brushed it off as an accident?"

He answered, "Well my dear, it's actually simple when you think about it. The managers know it was me who killed Bouquet, and I would honestly be stunned if they didn't think I was behind it. They didn't set the police on me because they know that I wouldn't get caught, and they're afraid that if they aggravate me too much I'll rip out their throats while they sleep and hang their lifeless corpses from the rafters by their intestines. I can assure you I would never do that. I stopped using intestines ages ago, they break too easily. But anyway, they know I killed Bouquet and they want to stay on my good side as much as possible. Now, they don't know who killed Raoul, and actually, no one killed him at all. Since they had no reason for his death they could call the police with out upsetting me." Erik explained to Christine, who had listened to the whole thing.

"Interesting, I suppose it is fairly simple. They are really scared of you Erik. Um, Erik? Can I ask you another question?" she said.

"Of course Christine, you can ask me anything. Be prepared, though, you may not hear the answer you prefer."

She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. The smile was gone from her face and she sounded a bit worried as she asked him, "Alright. Erik, why did you kill Bouquet?"

He sighed, turning his face away from her, and Christine immediately shrunk back into her chair. Still facing the other direction, Erik slowly said "Well Christine…that's kind of a difficult question. It's like asking why Hitler is evil, there's no straight answer."

Christine blinked, "Hitler doesn't exist yet."

"Oh, I suppose not. Still, there really isn't just one answer to that question. I suppose some of it was making a point to the managers, showing them what would happen if they disobey me. I think it made them a bit paranoid though." He said.

Christine nodded, and then yawned. "Oh, I should probably go back now, I'm really tired. How do I tell you I want to talk though? I mean, I won't always be as lucky as the first two times."

He smirked, saying "Well Christine, you need only ask. Remember, your angel shall always be watching over you."

"That's true. Now when you say always, do you mean _always_ always?" She asked.

Erik rolled his eyes, "No, not _all_ the time. I mean, I have a life too. But don't worry, speak to me, and I will listen."

She smiled, and Erik helped her into the little boat. As they began to make their way back to the world above Christine said "Thank you Erik."

"For what?" He asked.

"Well, when Raoul came, I think I forgot about what I already had. When I was with Raoul, I willingly closed my eyes on my angel of music. Thank you for opening my eyes again, and also for the wonderful pomegranate juice."

"Well, here's hopping that the new patron doesn't close your eyes again." Erik murmured.

She laughed and said "No, here's hopping that patrons are all the same and that Jeoffery will follow Raoul off the roof."


	10. A Meeting

10. A Meeting

There was a big meeting going on in the Grand Entry Hall of the Opera Populaire. Well, it actually wasn't big, there were only five people gathered on the stairs, but it was fairly important. Firmin, Andre, Madame Giry, Reyer, and the newly appointed patron, Jeoffery, were all standing on a different marble step, discussing important matters and getting Jeoffery up to date. They had just decided to fire the fourth chair xylophonist because he was, in fact, blind and deaf, when Firmin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped open the top, saying "Hello"

A deep and mysterious voice on the other end said "Build it, and they will come" and quickly hung up. (Seven floors below Erik was laughing to himself as he turned off his shinny new iPhone. He had just found out the managers number and was intending to use it well.)

Firmin's eyes glassed over and the cell phone fell from his hand, hitting the floor with a clatter. He said, almost trance-like, "I think I have to build a base ball field" Every one turned toward him, looking bemused. Madame Giry hit him on the head with her cane, and he said "Fine, fine, a foot ball field then!" Madame Giry hit him even harder, and he covered his head with his arms. "Ouch! Alright, you win! No fields! Just stop hitting me." Madame Giry seemed satisfied, so she lowered her cane and leaned on it.

"Who was calling anyways?" Andre asked Firmin.

Firmin shrugged "I don't know, it said 'if you build it they will come'. You know, I think it might have been the Opera Ghost. Didn't we deduce that it was him that called and said 'Luke, I am your father' in a Darth Vader voice?" Every one nodded in agreement, they were all familiar with the Darth Vader call, it had annoyed Andre to no end until he finally decided to blame it on the Opera Ghost, which gave him a slight sense of superiority over the phantom. He had taken to blaming every thing on Erik (and usually he was correct in doing so) and now he was so fed up with the Opera Ghost that his face was constantly red and he carried around a huge bottle of Heart Burn medication. Firmin was a bit calmer in the whole situation, although he was most likely bottling up the pressure inside himself, for he had developed a twitch in his left eye.

Finally Andre exclaimed "I'm doing something about this Ghost!" and dashed up the stairs to his office.

"What was that about" Asked Jeoffery. Every one shrugged and continued waiting for Andre to return.

Before the manager could come back, some one else walked down the steps. It was Christine, and she looked surprised to see the small gathering of people. In her hand she held a red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem. Madame Giry eyed the rose all too knowingly, "Christine?" she asked simply.

"What?" replied Christine, putting the hand with the rose behind her back and coming to stand with the group.

Jeoffery smiled at her. "My dear Christine! How lovely you look today! Now who was that rose from? Surely I am your only love!"

She scowled at him "Jeoffery, I don't even like you. It's none of your business who I love, or who I receive roses from! Leave me alone." Jeoffery frowned, and Christine shuffled over to Reyer, who she hoped would not pester her.

Firmin asked "So who is the rose from?"

"It's not any of your business either! Now who are we waiting for?" She said.

"Andre. He's gone up to fetch something from our office" Answered Firmin. In a few moments Andre came back, proudly clutching _The Yellow Pages_. He stooped to pick up the cell phone that Firmin had dropped and turned to face the bemused group, a determined look on his face.

"Well my dear friends I think that you will all agree with me when I say that this infuriating phantom has got to go!"

Christine's jaw dropped open and she took a step forward, "He does not!" she exclaimed.

"Oh just shut up Christine." Andre said and continued, "Anyway, I'm getting extremely fed up with him and now I'm going to do something about it! I got the phone book to see if there's anyone who may be able to get rid of The Phantom of the Opera!"

Christine gasped, "No Andre! You can't!"

Andre just laughed manically, "Oh, just try to stop me!" And began flipping through the thin pages of the phone book, muttering to himself. After four or five minutes he finally stopped, his fingers quit moving, and he was silent as he read an add. Then, he shouted "Eureka! I found something! Listen to this! 'Do you have a problem with a ghost? Is an infuriating specter haunting your house? Do spirits never cease to annoy you? Well your problems are over! Call the world famous Ghost Busters1! Using amazing science and technology, they'll catch any ghost imaginable, guaranteed!' It's perfect! We'll be rid of him in no time! I'm calling this number!" And call he did. The Ghost Busters were coming in three days and no one could stop them. Christine ran out of the entry hall, away from the managers, dashing to the mirror in her dressing room. She had to warn Erik.

Once she had slammed the door of her dressing room and dead-bolted it, she ran to the mirror and franticly began to beat her fists against the glass. "ERIK ERIK ERIK! OPEN THE STUPID MIRROR! ERIK!" She screamed. There were running footsteps from behind the mirror as Erik wrenched open the door.

"Christine?" He exclaimed.

In her blind terror Christine didn't even notice Erik and continued to yell, now beating her fists on his chest. "ERIK! COME ON ERIK! I…"she trailed off as she looked up into his face, realizing she had been hitting him.

He put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her wild eyes. "Christine, what is it? What's wrong?" He insisted.

She fell into his arms, sobbing against his shoulder, "Erik! It's the managers! They've called the Ghost Busters! Oh Erik, they'll catch you and take you away! Oh Erik, they'll kill you!" Christine was shaking against him and Erik put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. Why was she always crying when she hugged him?

"Christine, calm down, no more tears. What is wrong? Who are the Ghost Busters?" He asked softly.

She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and slowly looked into his eyes. "The Ghost Busters catch ghosts. They use science and technology to catch ghosts. Andre called them, and they are coming in three days. They'll get rid of you! Erik, I'm so afraid you'll die" Christine whispered.

He gathered her in his arms again, running a hand through her hair. "Christine, I wouldn't worry. Monsieur Lefevre tried something like this every other month and I always found it fairly easy to avoid these exterminators. I'm sure these Ghost Busters are no more fit to catch ghosts as they are cockroaches. Please, Christine, don't cry, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about" He tried to reassure her. She had stopped shaking but a tear still ran down her cheek. Erik brushed it of with his thumb, murmuring "Thank you for warning me. I suppose I can't pretend that the ghost busters don't pose a threat. I'll watch out for them and I'll be sure to carry my Punjab lasso with me. You say we've got three days until they come?"

Christine was starting to calm down. "Yes. Three days. Erik? Could I have more pomegranate juice?" She said, and hugged him tighter.

Erik grinned even wider then he had after his wonderful pants prank. "You bet"

1 Yes, I know perfectly well that Ghost Busters is actually Ghostbusters, but I forgot that when I started the story, and I am not going to go back and change it. Besides, I am being unique. That's a hobby of mine.


	11. Ribbon

11. Ribbon

"The Ghost Busters come tomorrow" Erik muttered as he looked at his calendar. On Tuesday, March 25, he had scrawled the words "Ghost Busters" in red ink. Under it there was a small note, and he squinted to read it. "I have a dentist appointment? I'll have to cancel, I have to be there to give the Ghost Busters a proper welcome." Erik pulled out his iPhone and dialed the number of his dentist, Dr. Willett. After three or four rings, the dentist picked up. Erik said, "Dr. Willett? Yes, this is Erik." There was a groan on the other end from Dr. Willet, but Erik continued. "I'm going to have to cancel the appointment tomorrow, something came up."

The Dentist gave an audible sigh of relief, and Erik knew why. The last time he was in for a check up he had given the dentist so much grief that by the time Erik left Dr. Willet had been reduced to tears. "Oh thank you! Uh, I mean, that's alright, we'll just reschedule. I have an opening on April 14, at 2 o'clock, if that will work for you" The dentist said.

Erik replied "That's fine" And hung up before the dentist could get in another word. Erik thought about what he would need for tomorrow. He wasn't sure if he was going to actually meet the Ghost Busters in person, or what "amazing science and technology" they would have. He walked over to a pine trunk that held some his favorite weapons, and pried open the lid. There was his favorite Punjab lasso, a revolver, a knife he could keep in his boot, and… a can of air freshener? Erik picked it up and turned it around in his hand, checking the scent. "Morning Dew? How did this get in here?" He sprayed a little bit in the air in front of him. "Eww" He said and randomly threw the canister. It hit stone wall with a crash and broke in two, a cloud of fragrance spraying everywhere. "Damn!" Erik exclaimed, "Now it smells like Febreze."

After doing his best to get the smell of morning dew out of his lair, Erik's eyes fell on a red rose lying on the keys of his organ. He needed to give it to Christine. Christine had come down the other days leading up to the Ghost Busters arrival, and they would talk. She would always ask for pomegranate juice, which she seemed to absolutely adore. Christine also found great entertainment in teasing Erik about his _figurines_, which was the only thing he disliked about her coming to talk. Erik was having difficulties discerning her feelings for him, he couldn't decide weather he was just becoming a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, a friend, like Raoul, or weather he was simply her plaything, and she was just taunting him for amusement. He disliked both of these choices. It could be that she only liked him for his pomegranate juice, which he thought was quite possible. Or, and his heart lurched at the thought, she could love him. Erik tried to convince himself that it couldn't be true, yet he so desperately hopped it was. She always seemed happy to talk to him, even when she had drank all of her juice, perhaps it was possible.

Erik held the red rose up to his nose, preferring its scent to the lingering Febreze. The rose needed a black ribbon before he could give it to Christine, so he opened a drawer and pulled out his spool of ribbon, but alas, it was empty. "Great" he said, "What next? Perhaps the lake will freeze over. I can't give this to Christine without a ribbon, how would she know who it was from? I could send a note with it: _Dearest Christine, I apologize that this rose is missing its black ribbon, but I have run out. I promise that I shall make it up to you, perhaps with an extra glass of pomegranate juice. Truly yours, Angel of Music._ No way, that sounds incredibly stupid. I'll just have to give it to her in person."

Then, Christine's voice suddenly called "Erik", and his head snapped up.

"Perfect timing" Erik said to himself as he snatched up the rose, dashing up to the mirror. He slid open the door to find Christine waiting expectantly, and offered her the rose.

She gently took it from his outstretched hand. "No black ribbon?" She wondered.

Erik replied "I'm sorry, I ran out." She laughed, and reached up to undo her ponytail, letting her hair fall back on her shoulders. Her hair had, in fact, been held up by a black silk ribbon, and she offered both the rose and ribbon back to Erik. He accepted them and then turned his back toward Christine, tying the ribbon around the rose's stem. He smiled as he turned around, presenting the new rose and saying "Let's try this again."

She took the rose, still giggling. "Thank you Erik!" She exclaimed, faking surprise, but when he offered his hand the smile slid off Christine's face. "Oh, Erik, I'm sorry, I can't come and talk today. The managers want extra rehearsals for_ Tosca_, and they last all day long today. There's no way I can get out of it, and honestly, I need the practice! I've only been there for a few rehearsals. I'm really sorry" She said.

Erik's face was expressionless as he studied her regretful eyes, and he said "Why, there's nothing to be sorry about. I forgot the managers were going to put on _Tosca._ You are staring in it, are you not?"

Christine smiled again, "Yes, I am! Carlotta still refuses to have anything to do with Firmin and Andre; she thinks they could have stopped her from croaking. It has been nice and quiet without her. Oh Erik! You will come and watch me in _Tosca_, right?"

"You didn't even need to ask, I would be there anyways. You won't be prepared for it if you don't rehearse though…" He said.

She jumped, "Of course! Oh, I'll be late, won't I? Madame Giry will kill me! Good bye Erik, thank you for the rose!" And she turned and left, leaving Erik to close the mirror door, and step silently back into the passage. He stared bleakly down the stone tunnel, not wishing to return to his lair, what with it smelling of Febreze.


	12. The Freaks Arrive

12. The Freaks Arrive

March 25. Need I say more? Andre and Firmin were directly behind the big oak doors of the Opera Populaire, absolutely bubbling over with excitement. Andre bounced up and down on his heels, and Firmin would pull out his gold pocket watch, snap it open, grumble, snap it closed, and put it back in his pocket, every two minutes. Huge grins adorned both their faces, and they both wore their best suits. Behind them, fidgeting on the stairs, was a large crowd of people. At the front there was Jeoffery, Madame Giry, Meg, Reyer, and hovering to the side, a worried frown on her face, was Christine. Behind them stood almost all the people that lived, worked, cleaned, or had anything to do with the opera house. Every one had heard that the Ghost Busters were coming, and everyone was anxious for then to bust the Opera Ghost. That is, every one except Miss Daae and the Ghost himself.

Erik was, in fact, watching the crowd from…uhh…some where secret. (Due to Personal Security and publishing laws I can't reveal to you his secret place, but lord knows he has plenty of them.) Anyways, from his hiding place Erik could see the managers fidgeting by the door and silently hissed as Firmin said "Oh I can't wait! What bliss it will be when the Phantom is gone! Andre you are brilliant!"

Someone in the crowd asked "When will they get here? We've been waiting for an hour!"

Andre replied, "They didn't say what time they would come, I only know that they'll be here sometime today." As the minutes passed the crowd began to relax and tension died down as people turned around and talked to each other. They began to look for ways to pass the time as minutes turned to hours, and one small group started up a game of charades. The Opera House's cook started handing out tubs of popcorn, charging 5 francs per tub. The only people who didn't buy popcorn were Andre and Firmin, who didn't want to be covered in butter when the Ghost Busters finally arrived, and Christine, who was much to nervous.

Just when everyone had become happy waiting and talking and everyone was starting to have fun, they heard the doorman's voice from outside. "Just a minute men. Andre, Firmin, there are three guys out here who want to come in" He called to the managers. Everyone fell silent, turning expectantly toward the managers who seemed to have frozen in place. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Firmin revolved to face the door and reached out his hand, holding his breath. His hand found the door knob, and he slowly turned it with shaking fingers. The door swung open the rest of the way on it's own, and light poured into the marble hall, the entire crowd gasped.

Standing, framed in the doorway and surrounded with light, was the silhouette of 3 men. They strode into the room, stopping in front of the stunned managers. Jaws had dropped open, eyes had grown wide as saucers, and the people gathered looked just as shocked as they had the night of the Masquerade when Red Death had appeared at the head of the staircase. Even Erik, hiding in the shadows, had raised his eyebrows when the Ghost Busters had walked through the door. The Ghost Buster in the middle, most likely the leader, took a step foreword and proclaimed to the crowd, "I hear you've got a problem with a ghost."

The sight that met the eyes of the Ghost Busters must have been an odd one for someone in their position. A crowd of about 100 people all gaping up at them, stock still, open mouths. _Perhaps they should try speaking in Russian_… Erik thought to himself. The only person he had ever seen command a crowd in such a way was himself, these men must have quite a reputation. Erik could understand why everyone was starring up at them, they looked even stranger then he had in his Red Death costume.

All three men were middle aged and had dark brown hair. One man, the one on the left, was wearing glasses, but other then that they looked fairly similar. They all wore the same uniform, which was a sight to behold in itself. A grey baggy jumpsuit, covered in pockets and with a big zipper running down the front. On all their backs there was a huge thing that looked like a jetpack, with a kind of hose/laser thing on the side. The man in the middle had his hose thing in his hands, as if he were prepared to do battle with a ghost the minute he walked through the door. The other two held metal cases that were labeled 'Property of the Ghost Busters' and probably held their scientific equipment. They wore expressions of power, analysis, eagerness, and superiority, much different to the faces full of awe that stared up at them. The trio looked calm, and yet ready to strike. Erik expected that they were probably accustomed to being welcomed like this, due to their odd attire. Finally, after getting bored of staring down at the frozen crowd, the Ghost Buster on the right said, "Well?" That had no effect on the massive knot of people on the stairs, but the managers jolted back to life.

Firmin began to splutter at the men in front of him, "Oh, I, uh, you, I, um, bu-…"

An odd smile crossed Andre's face and he grinned at the guy in the middle, dreamily saying "You're hot!"

The Ghost Buster frowned, and Firmin's jaw dropped to the floor again, "Andre?!"

An expression of utter horror crossed Andre's face, and in a small, meek voice he said to Firmin "Oh dear god, what did I just say?"

The other manager sadly replied, "You just called the Ghost Busters hot."

"Oh God! Well, I retract my enthusiastic exclamation. I think I'll go put a paper bag over my head so I may save myself some of this unbearable embarrassment." He muttered, and shuffled out of the hall with his head down.

Firmin turned toward the Ghost Busters and regrettably told them, "I'm so sorry about that, you see, he didn't mean it. (No offense or anything.) He had a concussion a while back, and now he says some weird things."

The middle Ghost Buster calmly nodded, "Oh don't worry, we've seen and heard weirder. We had to do battle with Mr. Stay Puft once, and let me tell you, that was weird."

"Oh. Well, please excuse anything odd Andre will say, it's probably from the concussion." Said Firmin.

"Can do" the Ghost Buster with the glasses said, then he stared over Firmin's head at the crowd. He addressed them, "Alright guys, we're here to catch your ghost, but we really need to talk to the managers in private, so if you could just, you know, disperse. Don't worry, you'll see us around the Opera House plenty in the days to follow."

The captivated audience grumbled to each other, wanting to stay and listen to the Ghost Busters, but none of them liked the look of those lasers. So they slowly filed out of the hall through one of the grand door ways. Christine, looking confused, took another door that led to her dressing room. Jeoffery had turned to leave with the mob of people, but Firmin took his arm and dragged him over to the Ghost Busters, who were tilting their heads to examine the hall.

Firmin was just about to start talking to the Ghost Busters when Andre dragged himself back into the room. Indeed there was a brown paper grocery bag on his head with two round holes cut for his eyes, and he looked completely stupid. The Ghost Busters remained silent, averting their eyes from the pathetic looking manager to look up at the ceiling. Jeoffery giggled to himself (yeah, a guy, giggling…sad, right?) and tried to keep it quiet by putting a hand over his mouth. Firmin hung his head, vowing to himself that he would never _ever_ get hit on a brick if he could help it. They only needed one manager embarrassing the opera house, that was plenty.

Erik had decided not to walk out with the crowd; he had to stay to listen to the conversation, so he was still lurking in the shadows watching the Ghost Busters. But when Andre had walked in with that bag on his head, he just couldn't help himself and a laugh burst from his mouth. Firmin jumped at the "HA!" that came from the bottom right corner of the hall. Erik's laughter echoed off the walls of the huge empty room, and he drew back further into the shadows. The Ghost Busters sprang to attention, scanning the hall. Jeoffery had stopped giggling and his eyes had grown wide, but no one could tell Andre's expression due to his paper mask. "What was that?" asked one of the Ghost Busters.

Firmin shrugged, "I honestly have no idea. I know it's not the ghost though, he doesn't laugh. I do believe that I have yet to welcome you to the Opera Populaire! We appreciate your service so much. We have a room all ready for you, if you would wish to stay with us. Oh yes, Let me introduce myself! I'm Richard Firmin, this is Jeane Andre, and we are the managers of the opera house. This is our new patron, Jeoffery Charuse." Jeoffery gave the men a happy wave as his name was mentioned, and Andre nodded from somewhere inside the bag.

The Ghost Busters smiled and shook each man's hand in turn, and then the one in the middle began to introduce them. "Good to meet you gentlemen. I'm Dr. Peter Venkman, and I have the business smarts in the group. Please, you can call me Peter." Dr. Venkman was the shortest of the group, if only by a few inches, and he seamed to about 43 years old. He did look like he was smart and had a lot of business savvy, although he came off as a little over confident and full of himself.

The man to his right stepped forward, saying "Hello, My name is Dr. Raymond Stantz, but you can just call me Ray. I'm an expert in paranormal history." Ray looked nice, and seemed to have lots of common cense, although he didn't come off as the most mature or the smartest of the group.

The last man, the one with glasses, looked like the brains of the operation, and he introduced himself as "I'm Egon Spengler, the scientist. I designed and created the equipment we'll use to catch your ghost. It's really nice to work with you, this opera house is beautiful" Egon told the managers.

Peter jumped at the opportunity for conversation, saying "Ah yes, this is exquisite. You know, I haven't seen any good theatre in while, will you be putting on any shows in the near future?"

Ray opened his mouth and way about to say "You hate the arts. Why, you haven't seen an opera in your life" when he noticed Dr. Venkman's strategy. Peter always had a way of winning over the customer and getting them to trust you.

Firmin smiled, "Yes, actually. _Tosca_ shall be opening in less then a week, you're welcome to attend as our guests. After _Tosca_ we'll be putting on _Don Juan_, which was written by the Opera Ghost himself. It's a bit of an odd production actually…" he told the Ghost Busters.

Peter said, (the other two usually just let Dr. Venkman do the talking) "Well, we've arrived to very reason we're here, your ghost. Would you mind telling us about him? After that we'll go set up shop in our room."

Now this was the moment, and Firmin smiled despite himself as he told the Ghost Busters everything. "The Ghost! Now, how do I begin? I'll describe him for you. He doesn't actually look like a ghost, he really looks like a man. He dresses nicely, always in suits, always in black. His black hair is always slicked back, he's fairly tall, and he wears black leather gloves. The most obvious feature you'll notice is a white half mask on the left side of his face. Trust me, you'll know him when you see him, if you ever do. He's quite…uh…reclusive? Maniacal? Mysterious? Deceiving? Brooding? Evil? I don't know, I would say he's just plain weird."

Then, just as suddenly as the Masquerade, the lights dimmed and 6 faces automatically snapped up to the top of the grand stair case. It was Erik. He smirked down on the stupefied group, "I do hope you weren't talking about me gentlemen? I'm not that weird am I? Now, why so surprised? Why so silent? Surely you didn't think I would miss the arrival of the Ghost Busters? I must give them my welcomes! Oh, and Firmin, in fact I do laugh! I laugh in the face of danger! I laugh in the face of death! And I certainly laugh at Andre wearing a paper bag over his head." He said, his voice dripping thick with sarcasm.

All three of the Ghost Buster's jaws dropped to the floor, and Erik began to walk toward them, taking each step slowly and savoring the astonished looks on their faces. They thought they were powerful? Well it was_ his_ opera house. "Dr. Venkman, Dr. Stantz, Dr. Spengler, welcome to my opera house. Let me just tell you that you have already made one mistake; I am not a ghost, but a man. This is going to be your toughest case so far, and by the time it's over one of us will be gone from the Opera Populaire for good. Here, I'll give you one tip. Keep your hand at the level of your eyes. I wish you the best of luck. Jeoffery, Christine doesn't love you so stop trying, Firmin, I'll be wanting that baseball field, and Andre, take that bag off your head. It's pathetic" He said as he walked past them all in turn. As he passed Andre he plucked the bag off his head, crumpling it up in his fist. Finally he came to stand in the middle of the landing, over the same trap door that he had disappeared through last time. He gave the managers one last smirk and said to Andre, "You really should use plastic instead of paper, it saves trees."

Andre frowned, "I do, but the grocery stores were out. Beside, you can suffocate with a plastic bag on your head." He argued.

Erik said "Exactly my point" before the trap door opened and he disappeared, surrounded by flames.

Jeoffery mournfully examined the place the phantom had disappeared, sadly saying "Oh. He's done it again. Why can't he just walk out like a normal person?"

Firmin sighed, shaking his head, "Because he's not a normal person. He's a complete psycho" He said, and turned to the Ghost Busters. "Well gentlemen, now you've met the infamous Phantom of the Opera. I have one thing to say before we leave you to your work. Good luck." And with that the managers gave Peter, Ray, and Egon each a last handshake and a look full of deep regret before walking out of the hall to their office. Jeoffery followed them like an obedient puppy, waving to the Ghost Busters over his shoulder before trotting off after Andre.

Left alone in the hall, the three exterminators stared back and forth between each other with looks of utter astonishment. Finally Ray spoke up, "Wow. We've got our hands full haven't we? Let's go set up the lab then." The other Ghost Busters nodded, and the threesome began to make their way to the room they would be staying in. They all had a feeling of foreboding; this was going to be harder then defeating the demon Gozor, even harder then fighting Mr. Stay Puft.


	13. Equipment may be Pointless

13. Warning: Equipment May Be Pointless

The room the Ghost Busters were staying in had been completely transformed. At first it looked like moderate sized hotel room. There had been three neatly made beds, a big mahogany dresser and matching bureau. The walls were an old, faded blue, and the dark wood floor was covered by a navy and lime green floral rug. One small window provided the room with light. When Peter Venkman had first walked into the room along with Ray and Egon, he had said "Well, this is quite a charming little room, very pleasant. Too bad we shall have to redecorate it."

The three men had done just that. They removed all the furniture except the beds out into the hall, hoping someone would be attentive and remove them. They took down all the paintings of bowls of fruit and country vistas, adding them to the pile outside the room. Lastly they rolled up the rug, throwing it onto the furniture and breaking a leg off of a spindly chair. Once they had emptied the room and all that remained were the three beds shoved into a corner, they began to renovate it. Now it was a full blown science lab, with more equipment and high-tech technology then a college physics class room. There were all sorts of blinking and ticking metal instruments. There were beakers and test tubes, something that resembled an oven, and something under the window that resembled a water heater. There was something that resembled a vacuum, something that resembled a DVD player, and a small metal box labeled (DANGEROUS SPECTRAL SUBSTANCE). There were machines to test the ghost's cellular makeup, test the properties of the ghost's aura, test the ghost's spectral secretions, test the ghost's blood pressure, and to give the ghost a deep tissue massage. There was a table in the corner that held the jetpack things (which were actually called a nuclear accelerator or proton pack) when they were not on the Ghost Busters backs.

The purpose of the proton packs was that the streams of nuclear energy would suck the ghost into the chamber on their backs, which would break down the ghost's protons so that it could be transferred to the little metal box, which was where they kept all of their ghosts before they had the chance to test them and transfer them to a safe holding tank. Ray was slightly doubtful that the Opera Ghost would be able to fit into the itty bitty mettle box, he seamed so solid and human-like. Ray almost doubted that he was a ghost at all, no other ghost had, well, talked to them. Except for the possessed Zule, but that was another story entirely. But if the managers were so convinced that the Phantom of the Opera was a ghost than Ray would go with it, after all, he had been wrong before.

On the same table as the nuclear accelerators was where Egon kept his mold, spore, and fungi collection. The scientist was sitting by the table, examining his specimens, poking them and rearranging his _Scizomycetes_. Peter was eating a bologna and horseradish sandwich, and Ray was stretched out on his bed, reading a book about the famous ghosts of Paris. Once Egon had the last spore in place, he got up and walked over to Peter. "Hey Venkman," He said, "We should probably go to bed so that we're bright eyed and bushy tailed when we hunt for that opera ghost."

Peter sighed and put down his sandwich, "Yeah, you're right Spengler. Something tells me this'll be a hard case, probably the fact that the ghost himself told us that he was a man and not a ghost. Will the proton packs work on humans? He probably is a ghost and he's just trying to scare us" He said.

Ray muttered a "Yup" as he flipped a page of his book.

Egon glanced at the title, "Why are you reading that?"

"I just wanted to see if it said anything about our phantom, but it's too old anyways" Replied Stantz.

The three got into bed, turning off their lights and pulling up the sheets. Suddenly, as Peter put his head on the pillow, he exclaimed "What!"

Egon reached up and turned on a lamp, (hey, they're not supposed to have electricity!) and mumbled, "What is it Peter?"

Dr. Venkman pulled something from under his pillow with fascination. "I found a book under my pillow" he said. All three men got up and went over to a table, gasping at the book. It was titled _Successfully Catching the Opera Ghost for Dummies_.

"Well this will solve all our problems! We'll have our ghost tucked away in no time!" Said Ray happily. Peter began to flip eagerly through the book, and the other two men leaned over his shoulder to read. But to their great dismay and disappointment the only thing printed on the first page was _Silly Wabbit, Twix are for kids! _That was, in fact, the only thing printed on all 256 of the pages, and the men gaped hopelessly down at the bold black words sitting mockingly on the page.

After a moment of silence, Ray tentatively suggested, "It could be a code. Maybe."

Egon just shook his head and looked back at the book, disgusted. "No, it's a stupid trick. I knew it was too good to be true, a book that would guide us through catching that weird ghost. It was just a sick prank" He said.

Peter said, "Maybe the tooth fairy left it as a way of getting back at me for not flossing" taking a stab at humor.

Egon sighed, "Yeah, right. Come on, let's get to bed."

"What's that?!" Erik exclaimed, sticking a hand under his pillow. He pulled out what felt like a book, and reached up to turn on his lamp (Oh, come on, what time period are we in people!!?!) to get a better look at what he was holding. It was a book titled _Successfully Avoiding and Driving Away the Ghost Busters for Dummies_. Erik blinked at the book, stunned. He had never found anything under his pillow before, and now this odd and very ironic book appears when he was about to go to sleep. Perhaps it could be useful, he thought, staring at the title. Although, other then the laser things they carried on their backs the Ghost Busters hadn't seemed that dangerous. It might be a good idea to read the book anyways, though. Besides, he hadn't been enjoying his current book, _The Cell_ by Stephen King; it just wasn't his kind of story. This one would be informative, and possibly, though he doubted it, lifesaving, so he cracked the cover. In bold, black lettering on the first page were the words _You're on your own on this one. Sorry_. He scowled at it, and dumbly turned the page. The second page was the lyrics to _Puff the Magic Dragon_, and so was the third, and the fourth, and all 317 other pages repeated _Puff the Magic Dragon_. Erik sighed deeply, and mumbled to himself, "Oh well, I probably didn't need it anyway."

He got up and walked over to the lake, then he threw the pointless book in the water. For a moment it floated idly, and then there was a tremendous roar and splash, and a huge, grayish, slimy tentacle burst from the water. It swiped up the book and pulled it quickly under the surface of the lake. There was a deep moan and a growl, then a repulsive slurping noise, and then the air fell silent, and the water was completely still. Erik stood, his feet frozen to the ground, utterly stunned. That was the weirdest thing that had happened to him in 2…3…maybe 5 years. It could be more, he had no idea. He had a giant squid living in his lake, and it ate books. He slowly reached out to his desk and picked up _The Cell_, and tossed it in to the water too. It only rested on the surface a few seconds, the pages barely began to absorb water, before the tentacle sprang up and the whole thing happened again. Once the ripples had gone from the lake's surface Erik finally said to himself "Oh my god." This was an interesting discovery. He would have to find out what else it ate, and he could never fall out of his boat. Ever. _I probably shouldn't tell Christine about this…_he thought to himself as he walked back to bed. The Ghost Busters would be on the prowl tomorrow, and he had to be well rested.

**A/N: Well as you have probably noticed that I don't write many authors notes…and it's true, I don't. And I will not be writing regular ones every chapter, but I'll put them in every once in a while, when I feel it necessary. I wanted to tell everyone that's read up to this point, thank you! Read and review, it makes me feel glittery inside! Hope you're liking the story, and I love to hear feedback from you!**


	14. Fop is as Fop Does

14. Fop is as Fop Does

When Ray woke up in the morning, bright sunlight pouring in through the one small window, he had a moment of panic. He blinked franticly, and exclaimed to himself, "Where the hell am I?! This isn't headquarters! Oh God! Oh, no, wait. I'm in Paris, in an opera house, hunting a ghost/man with a mask and sense of sarcasm. Today should be fun." So Raymond got out of bed, shook the other two Ghost Busters awake and disappeared into the bathroom that adjoined their bedroom.

Egon got out of bed, stretched and rubbed his eyes, but Peter Venkman slept on. Egon walked over to his sleeping colleague, grasping his shoulder and vigorously shook it. "Get up Venkman!"

Peter jolted awake, and, startled, tangled himself in his sheets. After struggling for a second he accidentally toppled out of bed, smoke practically shooting out of his ears, but very much awake. Egon just chuckled to himself and went to sort out the jet pa- uh, proton packs. "Oh thanks Spengler! What a nice way to get me out of bed in the morning! Very mature!"

Peter yelled at the scientist, who calmly replied, "I'm not the one who made you fall on the floor, I just shook your shoulder. You would have slept the morning away. We need to get ready to look for the ghost."

Ray then opened the bathroom door, poking his head out. "Bathroom's open. Why are you on the floor?" He asked. Peter just grumbled something about Egon being a jerk and pulled himself off the ground, throwing the sheet back on the bed. Egon swapped Ray for the bathroom, and Peter pulled their baggy gray uniforms out of suitcases they had brought along. The Ghost Busters had to wear their uniforms on the job, it was company policy. After all three were done in the bathroom, shower taken, teeth brushed and hair combed, they pulled on their jumpsuits. It took a great effort to properly strap on the jetpacks, and once they had done it right and were just a bout to head out, some one else knocked on the door.

It was Jeoffery, and he came right in when Ray opened the door. His brown eyes gleamed under his light blonde hair, and he looked very happy to find the Ghost Busters up and ready for the day. The Ghost Busters just looked surprised to see him greeting them so early, and looking so cheerful. "Good morning gentlemen! How was your sleep? Pleasant, I hope. Wow, you've done quite a lot with the room! People wondered why you tossed out your furniture; I guess you need the space for all these weird machines. What do they do? I won't touch anything. Oh, yeah, since you guys are going to hunt for the ghost, the managers wanted me to guide you around. I'll take you on a tour of the whole Opera House, and if we see the phantom you can shoot him! He tried to take my Christine you know, I can't wait for you to get rid of him! Come on then, what are we waiting for! Let's bust the opera ghost!" And with that Jeoffery walked out of the room, motioning with his hand for the Ghost Busters to follow him.

The three men ran to catch up with the patron, until they were walking beside him. Peter said, "Good morning Jeoffery. My, you do like to talk a lot don't you? Well, thank you for showing us around, but be careful with our equipment and don't get in the way if we see the ghost. Okay?"

Jeoffery nodded, "Can do!"

"Great. Do you mind if I get to know you while we walk around? Just talk quietly." Said Peter.

This seemed to please the patron, and he replied "Sounds good" As he turned the Ghost Busters down a hall, pointing things out to them. Peter continued to talk to Jeoffery, as Ray and Egon observed their surroundings, making a note of everything. They knew it was up to them as Peter was to busy being the 'people person' of the group and would never remember any of this.

Venkman said, "So, how long have you been the Opera Populaire's patron?"

Jeoffery replied, "Not that long actually! Only a couple of weeks. Trust me, it'll take you a while to remember all the passage ways and different rooms, I still get lost occasionally. Don't worry though; I made a map especially for this tour."

"Good. We hope we don't have to stay that long though; we want to get rid of your ghost! He seems, uh, well… do you know anything about him?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much. I've only seen and heard him a few times. Christine apparently knows him though, and so does Madame Giry. You should talk to them" Jeoffery explained.

Peter nodded, making a mental note. "Okay, Christine who, then?"

"Christine Daae, a pretty, brunette soprano. I went to the Masquerade Ball with her, and got a telling off from the Phantom."

"Daae, okay. A telling off from the ghost? Hmm… If you don't mind me asking, Jeoffery, how old are you?" Asked Peter, who thought the patron acted like a gay eleven year old.

Jeoffery smiled, "I'm 23! I'm almost a Vicomte, but that brother seems like he'll never die! How long does it take for cancer to kill somebody?"

"So you're still pretty young! I remember being 23…Anyways, do you like opera? I suppose you must, if you patron an opera house. Who's your favorite singer?"

"Fergie!" Exclaimed Jeoffery, playing with the ruffle on his sleeve.

"What a fop" Egon muttered under his breath. Jeoffery didn't hear him, he was to busy chattering to Peter about how his favorite rock band was ACDC, and about the family vacation he had taken to Greece 6 years ago. Dr. Venkman was starting to wish he had never offered to get to know the patron.

Soon the foursome went in to the main auditorium. Standing amongst the red velvet seats, they looked up to the stage and noticed that rehearsals were taking place. Everyone was in full costume, and were getting into place for the next number they would practice. "It looks like they're rehearsing for _Tosca_! They're getting really close to putting it on; I've heard they just need a replacement xylophonist before the gala. Will you be watching the performance?" Jeoffery asked the Ghost Busters.

Ray nodded, admiring the leaping ballerinas. "Yeah, we're attending as the managers guests. What box would we be sitting in?" He wondered.

Jeoffery pointed to a large box to the left of the stage. "You'll sit there, with Andre and Firmin. Now, you see that box over there, on the right side, yes, near the stage. That's box five. The Phantom of the Opera's box" He told them solemnly. All three Ghost Busters gave him a weird look.

Finally Egon wondered, "The Ghost has a box?"

"Why yes. I personally haven't seen him use it, but I've heard Madame Giry explain it. The ghost sits in it to watch the operas. The ballet girls say that he kills someone if it's full, but the Managers say that's not true. Some one dared me 1,000 francs to sit there during _Tosca_, so I'm gonna try it. Besides, you guys will be there to keep me safe! Now, the ghost also gets a monthly salary, 20,000 francs from the managers" Said Jeoffery.

Peter gaped at the amount, "They give him 20,000 francs? But he doesn't do anything! Why should they pay him for making their lives hell?"

Jeoffery said, "Because they're so scared that he'll Punjab them in the night if they don't obey his every command. They seem pretty gullible, actually."

Egon nodded, understanding completely. "Oh, I get it. You know, this place is pretty cool. I haven't been in many opera houses."

Ray looked over at Jeoffery, saying "I like that suit you're wearing, that purple is very stylish. Where do you get it?"

Jeoffery grinned at him, "Willy Wonka!" He said.

The Ghost Busters exchanged glances behind the patron's back, and fell silent. They let Jeoffery lead them out of the auditorium, and for the rest of the day the four wandered around the Opera Populaire, searching for the phantom. But it was to no avail, they didn't see anything. This was because Erik was preoccupied. He had meant to jump out at them from the shadows wearing a ski mask, or fling fire balls at their backs, or shoot them all with rubber bands, but he was deterred, and the ghost busters chased after nothing. They climbed into bed that night feeling very discouraged, and they were all hoping that Jeoffery would not join them again.


	15. The Mirror

15. The Mirror

Erik thought to himself as he walked up the passage way to the mirror, _I wonder if the Ghost Busters are up yet. They won't find me while they're hunting though; I guess Christine wanted to talk. I do have a lot to tell her though, she didn't get to stay and listen the Ghost Busters yesterday_… He said in his head as he reached the back of the mirror. Erik grasped the edge and pulled on the door, like he always did, but it did not open. He stared down at his hand that grasped the edge of the mirror, not believing it was stuck. He pulled harder, with both hands, and still it remained closed. He frowned and sighed, he would just have to try harder. He pulled and tugged with so much force that it shook in its frame, but didn't open. He cursed and tried again, and on the other side, sitting at her vanity, Christine looked up to the commotion, surprised.

She got up and slowly walked up to the rattling glass, quietly saying, "Erik?"

Erik immediately stopped fighting with the mirror at the sound of her soft voice and said "Christine! Uh, the mirror is stuck."

She frowned, exclaiming, "Stuck! Oh Erik, how can it be stuck?"

"I don't know! But I'll get it, don't worry!" He grunted, tugging at the edge again. Christine walked over to the mirror, running her hands over the glass for a moment, then she grasped the outside edge and pulled along with Erik. Even with their combined effort the door remained firmly shut. They finally both gave up, taking a step back from either side of the mirror.

"What now?" Christine asked through the door.

Erik replied, "I have no idea. You know, it's never done this before."

"Weird. Hey, maybe we could get the opera house's repair man to look at it?" She suggested.

Erik sighed, "Yeah, and invite the entire staff down to my lair. I'll get it, Even if I have to break the mirror and get a new one!"

"Please don't."

"I don't want to. Come on, let's try again." They redoubled their efforts to slide open the stubborn door, and Erik propped a foot against the stone wall to get extra leverage. "God dammed mirror!" He shouted, giving it an extra jerk.

That seemed to do it, and the door finally snapped open. Christine screamed and stumbled backward into her dressing room, and Erik slammed into the wall, sliding down to the floor. "Ouch!" He exclaimed, quickly getting up and brushing off his shirt. Erik looked up at Christine, still wiping dirt off his collar, "Well, let's hope that doesn't happen again."

She nodded, her brown eyes wide, chest rising and falling heavily. "Yeah. Wow, why did it get stuck?"

"I have no idea. Come on, you wanted to talk, right? I didn't give up scaring the Ghost Busters just to be knocked into a wall." Christine nodded, and grabbed something off her vanity before following Erik down the passage way. As he led her down, Erik noticed that she had brought a book. He just hoped she wouldn't throw it in the lake.

They made the journey to his lair normally, but when they were in the gondola Christine sighed deeply and crossed her arms. Erik looked down at her, a worried frown on his lips. "What is it?" He asked her.

Christine sighed again and said, "It's just… this is kinda boring. We used to sing!"

Erik replied, "Oh, Okay then…Sing for me angel of music?" She grinned, opening her mouth wide to sing for him.

When they got to Erik's home Christine sat down next to him and opened her book, but she only examined the pages a moment before closing it again. "I really don't like this book, I don't know why I brought it. I should get rid of it." She said, and she got up from her chair, walking to the edge of the lake. She extended her arm as if she was going to throw the book into the water, but Erik sprang up from his chair and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the lake.

"No, you can't!" He snarled in her face.

Christine shrank away from his face, her eyes growing wide with fear. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But… why?" She asked in a small, timid voice.

He let go of her arm, immediately feeling bad that he had snapped at her. "Christine, I'm sorry. But, you can't throw anything into the lake!"

"Why?" She wondered, still standing a few feet away.

He said, "I can't tell you. You'll never want to get in the boat again."

"Tell me" she insisted.

Erik sighed, "Fine. I'll show you. Give me the book." Christine handed it over him, and he stepped over to the water's edge. He held his breath as he tossed the book into the water, and silently watched as the huge slimy gray tentacle burst out of the water, snatched the book, and pulled it under the water to devour it. This didn't surprise Erik anymore, although he did wonder how such a huge squid could fit in such a shallow lake. (the pole for the boat could reach the bottom, right?)

Christine screamed and ran to Erik, clutching on to his arm and cowering behind him. "What was that?!" She screeched. For a moment he didn't answer, amazed that she was actually holding on to him. He expected her to run to the wall or draw as far back from the water as possible, but no, she was clinging to his arm, shaking as she looked into his eyes.

After a moment he told her, "It was a giant squid. I told you that you wouldn't want to know."

She opened her mouth in horror, "A giant squid! Erik you have to get rid of it!" Christine whimpered.

Erik looked back at her skeptically, "And how do you propose I do that?"

"I don't know. I guess you really can't, can you. But won't it eat you?" She asked.

"I don't plan on falling out of the gondola, and I don't even know if it eats humans. It may just eat paper." He replied.

"Well, if that's true then you can feed it some of the junk lying around this place" She said, letting go of his arm and gesturing to the numerous piles of loose sheet music.

Erik frowned, saying "I resent that."

After the shock of the squid had faded they sat down and Christine said, "Let me tell you about the Ghost Busters! Oh, you should have seen them!"

Erik replied, "Actually, I know more about them then you do. I was hiding, listening to the whole thing." She raised her eyebrows and he continued. "I heard the 'private talk' they had with the managers and Jeoffery. I even confronted them in the middle. You know, they don't seem like a terrible threat. I'm looking forward to shooting rubber bands at the backs of their heads. Firmin and Andre are getting worrisome though, they won't pay me my salary and Firmin refuses to build me a baseball field."

"A what?" wondered Christine.

"Don't ask" He replied, and began to tell Christine everything he had heard and seen after the crowd of spectators had left. She only interrupted once, when he got to the part about the paper bag on Andre's head.

"He really put a bag on his head?" She laughed.

Erik nodded sadly, "It worries me to have such morons running my opera house. Jeoffery worries me too, he was bet 1,000 francs to sit in my box during _Tosca_, and he's actually going to do it. What a fool" He said.

Christine just muttered, "Just don't kill him."

Erik said, "I won't" and continued to tell Christine about the Ghost Busters. Once she knew everything, they both fell silent for a moment, Christine staring at the water, Erik staring at Christine.

Finally she looked up and asked, "Anything else interesting happened?"

He shrugged, "Not really. California's stock prices have dropped, (Christine rolled her eyes) and I found a book under my pillow the other night titled _Successfully Avoiding and Driving away the Ghost Busters for Dummies. _Yup, that's the only thing I've ever found under my pillow. It was useless though, the only thing printed on all of the pages were the lyrics to _Puff the Magic Dragon_. I ended up throwing it in the lake, which is when I found out about the giant squid. And I have a dentist appointment tomorrow. I wonder if I could bottle Dr. Willet's tears and sell them on the internet…" said Erik.

They talked for a while longer, Christine was incredibly interested in the prospect that Erik went to the dentist. He just flashed her a sparkling white grin, saying "How else would my smile be this perfect? Hey, if half my face is horribly scarred, at least my teeth can look good."

Christine laughed, and absent mindedly ran her tongue over her small white teeth. Erik watched her hungrily, but she didn't notice. Eventually she said "I should go back now, I think." He nodded, and they walked over to the lake's edge. Erik stepped into the little boat, and offered her his hand. But Christine didn't take it; she stood on the shore, staring down at the water. Tentatively she asked, "Is there any other way?"

Erik sighed, "I told you that you would never want to go into the boat again. There isn't any other way that I can take you up, come on, I won't tip it over" He said. After a few minutes of hesitation she nodded, and sat down in the boat. True to his word, Erik was careful in his gondola-maneuvering, and they didn't fall out. He made a mental note to find someone useless, or steal a dead body, and see whether the giant squid ate humans or not.

Soon they were standing by the mirror, and it slid open easy enough this time. Christine didn't leave immediately though, she turned around to face Erik, staring into his dark eyes. Slowly she asked, "Erik, do you love me?"

He froze, absolutely shocked. It was not that he didn't know how to answer, or that the question scared him, it was the fact that he had never expected the words to come out of her mouth. Inside his head he was screaming, "WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT? OF COURSE I LOVE YOU! I'M FREAKING OBSESSED!" But he was having trouble deciding what to actually say to Christine. Trying to keep his voice steady, he told her the truth, "Christine, I love you with all of my heart. You are the reason I live. I thought you knew that." Her head was cocked slightly to the side, her eyes inquisitive. A thought entered Erik's mind, why had she asked? For a moment he wanted to ask her "And do you love me?" But he couldn't, he was too afraid the answer would be no. So he watched as Christine gave him a warm smile and turned back into her dressing room, sliding the mirror shut behind her. Erik let his feet take him back to the lair, his mind on other things. One question kept coming up, why had she asked?


	16. Poor Dr Willet

16. Poor Dr. Willet…

The next morning Erik dressed in his nicest black suit and grabbed a small glass phial for tears he could collect. He thought he would to see if he could meet the Ghost Busters on the way out, since he had missed them yesterday, so he decided to exit the opera house from the main doors in the grand entry hall. Erik walked down the marble staircase, blinking at the bright room. It was a clear, cloudless day outside and sun shone through the windows, which Erik did not prefer. Sunlight and the Phantom of the Opera do not agree. He was just about to walk outside and hurry down the street to Dr. Willet's office when he heard footsteps and talking coming in from a hallway.

Erik turned around; he recognized one voice as Firmin's. "Yes, we'll be having try outs for our new fourth-chair xylophonist this afternoon. I hope we find someone good, once we have a full orchestra we can hold the gala for _Tosca_" Said the manager. Then the footsteps stopped, as Firmin, Andre, and the Ghost Busters entered the hall, and noticed Erik. It probably looked odd, the Opera Ghost, dressed all in black, mask and everything, about to go outside and walk about with the rest of society. They seemed to expect him to melt.

Erik smiled at them, "Good morning gentlemen" He said.

Andre gasped, and Peter exclaimed "What are you doing here?!"

Erik said, "Why, I'm going to a dentist appointment."

Egon blinked, "You don't go to the dentist."

"Why not?" asked Erik.

Ray said, "Because you're a ghost."

"We've been over this, I'm a _human_. With a perfect smile, mind you. How do you know I don't go to the dentist anyways?" Erik told him.

Peter marveled at the phantom's logic, _he does have nice teeth_, the Ghost Buster though to himself. Seeming satisfied, Erik turned around again and put a hand on the door knob. Suddenly Ray shouted, "Where do you think you're going?"

Erik turned around once more and said, "How slow are you? I'm going to the dentist."

"Oh no you don't!" Cried the Ghost Busters, and they drew the hoses of their proton packs, all three pointing them at Erik, who only frowned.

"Scary. Good bye gentlemen, I hope I can make it back in time for the auditions" He said, and he walked out, slamming the door behind him. The five men just stared at the closed door, and the Ghost Busters slowly lowered the laser-things, snapping them back to the jetpacks.

Andre said, "That was odd, he's usually not that nice."

Firmin sighed, "He was just acting sarcastic. We all know he's spiteful and wicked."

"You're right" Andre said, and the men walked out of the entry hall. The managers were headed off to set up for the xylophonist auditions. The Ghost Busters just wandered around the Opera House, they had nothing to do now that the Phantom had left.

Erik did not enjoy the walk down the roads of Paris to Dr. Willet's office. Number one: The streets were bright and open. Eww. Number two: There were people. They would stop and stare at Erik, some even screamed. He hated crowds. The bright side was that he did have a very wide, open path through the crowds. Erik had only chosen to do this so that he could confront the Ghost Busters, and he wasn't enjoying his decision. Dr. Willet's office was only a couple of blocks down from the Opera House, and he quickly slipped in the door. The little bell above the door chimed garishly, and the secretary behind the desk looked up from her magazine. The color drained from her face, "Mr. Destler, uh, um, yes, Dr. Willet is ready to see you" She said, pointing him through a door to the right, and sighing in relief as he left the waiting room. The dentist was standing by the examining chair, trembling slightly. Erik smiled maliciously, he planned to have fun.

**A/N: Hey everybody! Hope you're enjoying the story so far ^_^ next chapter's a fun one. Please droop me a quick review, I really want to hear what you think! And make sure you tell all your friends about the bestest story you've ever read, eh? Unless you don't have friends…boy that'd be tragic. Don't worry, I'll be your friend. XD anyway…thanks for reading, reviewing, ect, and I do hope everyone's life is going well ******


	17. Paris Idol

17. Paris Idol

Back in the auditorium of the Opera House, the tryouts for fourth chair xylophonist were beginning. The stage was cleared off and only a chair, stand of music, and a spare xylophone were standing alone before the audience. A fair number of people were sitting in the red velvet chairs. In the second row were the managers, the patron, Madame Giry, Reyer, Christine, Meg, Piangi, and Carlotta who had grudgingly returned to sing. Firmin and Andre had grudgingly allowed it. No one was sure why she was back, seeing as everyone had agreed that it was nicer without the diva of annoyance-and-superhumanly-shrill-high-notes. Filling up the third row and a few more behind it were the stage hands, chorus girls, and the orchestra. Everyone was very exited to see the auditions.

Andre turned to Firmin and said, "This will be fun, it's like American Idol!"

Firmin smiled, "Yes, you know, it really is! Except that we'll have to make it Paris Idol" Then he gasped, and his eyes grew wide, "If this is going to be Paris Idol, then we need judges!" He said.

Andre nodded fervently, "Yes! Let's see, we'll need three: A nice woman, for Paula, someone cool and calm and supportive, for Randy, and a complete ass, for Simon."

Firmin agreed, and stood up to face the crowd. "Before we can begin the auditions, or what we call Paris Idol, we need three judges. First, someone like Randy. Any takers?" He asked.

Jeoffery raised his hand and waved it in the air like a little first grader with an answer to the teacher's question. "OH! ME! ME! ME!" He screamed.

Firmin sighed, "No Jeoffery, sit down." Slowly the patron lowered his arm, looking down at his feet dejectedly. Reyer glanced around at the audience and, seeing that no one was volunteering, raised his hand. Firmin grinned, "Yes Reyer, you'll be perfect. It is your orchestra, anyways." So the conductor got up and walked to the empty front row, sitting down in the middle and looking important, just like the judges on the TV show. Now Firmin said, "And we need one of the women to be Paula, someone sweet and likable." Christine, Meg, and Carlotta all raised their hands. Jeoffery began to put his hand up, but then he thought better of it and passed the motion off as scratching his ear. Firmin scanned the three contenders and said, "Carlotta? You're not nice, put your hand down. How about Christine? I think she'll do well. Sorry Meg, but she has more musical experience then you." Meg nodded and put her hand down. Carlotta hissed silently at the manager and crossed her arms over her chest. Christine grinned and jumped from her chair, heading up to the front to sit next to Reyer. People in the back craned their heads to see the two judges, wondering who would play Simon. "Alright, lastly we need a Simon. Someone evil that makes people feel bad" Said Firmin.

Before anyone had a chance to raise their hand, a door in the back of the auditorium slammed open and Erik walked through the door. He walked confidently down the isle between the crowd, smirking at the managers. Everyone sitting in the red velvet seats silently turned toward the phantom, openly gaping at him. Except for Meg, of course, who screamed "IT'S THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!" at the top of her lungs. Nobody was surprised at all by this; they just kept staring at Erik.

Firmin finally bleakly said, "What are you doing here?"

Erik replied, "I heard that you needed a critical, arrogant, evil ass. I'm your man."

Firmin opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it, then held up one hand in protest and opened his mouth, then lowered his hand and closed his mouth, then opened and closed his mouth once more, then finally said, "Alright. Besides, who's more unpleasant then you?"

"I'll try not to take that as an insult" Said the phantom crossly, and sat down in the front row next to Christine.

She smiled at him and whispered "How was your dentist appointment?"

He pulled out his little bottle full of Dr. Willet's tears, "Fun. You know, I actually find the dentist enjoyable, especially with such an array of scissors and drills at my fingertips. I collected a bottle of tears- yes of course I have a reason! I'm going to say it's the soul of a water demon and sell it on eBay!" He replied.

Christine asked, "Why do you want to sell it?"

"I need some money, because _someone_ won't pay me my monthly salary!" Erik said, saying the last part very loudly. He glanced over his shoulders at the managers, who shrunk back in their chairs, "Ahem. That means you two."

Firmin coughed, and elbowed Andre in the ribs. Andre put a hand in his pocket and slowly withdrew a plain white envelope, extending it to Erik. The Opera Ghost took it out of his outstretched palm and stuck it inside his jacket, and said "Good. Now I won't have to kill you." Both managers gulped, but Erik had turned around again and was eagerly listening to Christine talk about what she would look for in a good xylophonist.

Firmin nervously checked his watch, then shot out of his chair and onto the stage as if the audience was on fire. "We must start the auditions! Our contestants are waiting backstage!" He exclaimed. Then he said, "I'll be Ryan Seacrest and start the show!" and disappeared backstage. He reappeared a moment later with a grin on his face and a bounce in his step, telling the audience, "Welcome to Paris Idol! Today we'll be finding a new fourth chair xylophonist for the Opera Populaire! We're so glad to have you in our wonderful audience! Let me introduce you to our judges! We have Monsieur Reyer! (Reyer gave a small salute) We have Miss Christine Daae! (Christine smiled and waved) And we have Erik, the infamous Phantom of the Opera! (Slouching back in his chair, Erik gave the slightest arrogant nod. _The perfect Simon_, Firmin though inside his head) Thank you judges! Now, let's start the show! I'll bring out a contestant, and they can introduce themselves and play for you!" Firmin said, and he disappeared backstage again.

When he reappeared this time he was dragging a young, nervous looking man by the elbow. Firmin shoved the man to the center of the stage and stood of to the side. The man addressed the judges, shaking with fear, "Uh, hi. My name is, uh, Leo. I guess that I'll be, uh, playing the xylophone? Okay, I hope I can to this…" He said, and took a seat behind the xylophone, examining the music on the stand. Leo began to play, but it turned out to be the completely wrong song, not to mention it was 5 notes too high to pass as music.

Reyer cringed, Christine tried to smile but ended up grimacing, and Erik openly plugged his ears with his index fingers. Eventually Leo stopped playing and glanced at the judges. Randy usually went first, so Reyer said, "Uh, well, I'm gonna have to say no. Perhaps get some lessons Leo, okay?"

Christine said, "Well, Reyer is right, some lessons would be good. And next time, play the song provided, please."

Then it was Erik's turn, he said "Have you ever even played the xylophone before? Take up and instrument less damaging to peoples ears if you suck at it. Like the harmonica."

Leo frowned, and walked off the stage with his head bowed. Firmin went backstage and came up again with another man, who immediately sat down at the xylophone and started playing away at it without even saying his name. He seamed to have xylophone talents, and very bushy eyebrows. Over the song Erik wondered out loud, "Is that Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

The man stopped playing and looked at Erik. "Why yes my dear Phantom, I am Andrew Lloyd Webber" He said pleasantly.

Erik jumped up and pointed at the exit, screaming "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Andrew got up, shaking his head, "I see you still have a temper Erik. You shouldn't talk to your creator like that." He said calmly.

"You're not my creator! I'm Gaston Leroux's character in Gerard Butler's body! You just wrote the freakin' music! Now I want you OUT!" Erik bellowed. Andrew sighed and got off the stage, disappearing through an exit. Erik sat down again, "Sorry about that."

No one said anything; they just stared at the back of Erik's head, feeling fairly uncomfortable. Jeoffery murmured "Where are the Ghost Busters when you need them?"

Christine leaned over to Erik, whispering, "What was that about?"

"I don't like Andrew Lloyd Webber, okay?" Erik muttered defensively.

Christine shifted a few inches closer to Reyer. "Why? He wrote all our beautiful music" She said.

Erik scoffed, "That doesn't mean I have to like him. Besides, I thought I wrote the music!"

Christine didn't get to reply, Firmin had appeared on the stage. He cleared his throat and told the crowd, "Uh, I'll go and get another contestant. Um, Erik? We would prefer you wouldn't do that again. No matter who comes on stage."

Erik growled at the manager, "You can't tell me what to do! You do as I say, or I'll sick my Doberman pinchers on you!" He said, glowering.

Christine scooted another inch or two closer to Reyer, "I didn't know you kept dogs!" She exclaimed. Erik said nothing, just crossed his arms over his chest, he seamed to be taunting Firmin to give him another command. The manager seemed too scared by the prospect of an angry Erik wielding a Punjab Lasso and a rabid Doberman Pincher to protest, so he disappeared backstage and took quite a long time to pick the next contestant.

Eventually he came back leading an ancient old man, who clung to Firmin's arm like it was his one link to life. Looking doubtful, Firmin released the man and stepped back into the shadows. For a moment the old man stood there, then he started to wander around the stage aimlessly, as if he couldn't see where he was going. Finally he bumped into the stool, and stumbled backward. He seemed to know that the stool was what he was aiming for, so he began to grope toward it, and when his hand finally met the edge of the chair, he clambered on with relief. Erik was already feeling quite doubtful about this guy. Now the old man had to find the xylophone, and when his searching hands finally found the mallets, he began to beat them around wildly, occasionally striking a key, usually striking himself. He didn't seem to notice, he just kept flailing at the xylophone. Reyer put his head in his hands, sighing. Erik finally got fed up and exclaimed, "Hey old man! What's your problem?!" The man didn't respond, just kept whacking at the instrument that he probably couldn't see. Erik tried again, cupping his hands around his mouth he yelled "STOP PLAYING!!!" The ancient man bashed on.

Finally Firmin jumped down off the stage and ran up to the judges. "Can I take him off the stage?" He asked desperately.

Christine nodded fervently, "Yes please do!"

From behind them Carlotta moaned "Oh this is wretched! Get him out! You hurt my ears!"

"Yeah, he's almost as bad as you!" Erik exclaimed over the man's racket.

Carlotta said nothing, just gave a huffy sigh and crossed her arms, offended. Firmin climbed back on the stage and pulled the man to his feet, leading him away. The old man followed obediently, but he was still lashing out at the air with the xylophone mallets, which he had never put down. Firmin hurried him off the stage, covering his head with his arms so he wouldn't get hit by the crazy man's flailing arms.

Having dispatched the old man, Firmin came back to face the audience, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "Well, that certainly wasn't pleasant. I'll go and find another contestant" He said wearily.

As he disappeared behind the curtain Erik exclaimed, "Make sure you choose someone that doesn't suck!" The next few auditions were not eventful. None of the men that tried out had anything special about them. Not a lot had any xylophone skills; although some were better then others. Erik had to wonder if some of them had ever picked up an instrument before in their lives. For some of the contestants it was simply the fact that they made to many careless mistakes. The judges had high standards, Reyer needed someone very good with _Tosca_'s gala looming ahead, and Erik was simply an extreme perfectionist. He would only settle for someone who possessed nothing for him to criticize.

After 7 dull performances, Erik was quite bored. So, when the next contestant came on and opened his mouth to introduce himself, he seemed to bark. It was extremely realistic, and no one could tell that Erik the ventriloquist was causing the man to sound exactly like a Jack Russell Terrier. The poor guy grasped at his throat, but he couldn't prevent himself from barking every time he opened his mouth. After a few minutes, once the man was thoroughly mortified, Erik let him have his voice back. It seemed that poor fellow was too embarrassed to continue his audition, though, and he ran back stage as fast as his legs would carry him.

The audience began to chatter and laugh, remarking on the amazing barking man. Erik tried to have the same expression of amused surprise on his face as everyone else, but it didn't work, and he couldn't keep the satisfied smirk out of his eyes. He knew that his trick had been impressive. Christine looked over at him, and realization sprang to her eyes. "It was you, wasn't it?" She exclaimed.

"Shhh!" He said, silencing her with a warning glare, "Don't say it out loud!" She nodded, her eyes still wide from amazement. Erik smirked to himself, _if she's impressed with that, she should see what magic I can really do._ He thought to himself as they turned to watch Firmin bring out another contestant. The next few performances were as mediocre as the last, and many people were wondering if they would ever find a new fourth chair xylophonist that could actually play.

Then, the next faithful man walked on stage. (Is it me or are they all guys? The xylophone isn't even a particularly manly instrument…) He looked like he was fairly important, and his steady gaze and stiff posture suggested power. He had light brown hair and seemed to be about 55 years old. He was probably an important politician or an influential business man. Erik studied him closely, and he deduced that the man looked like he was famous; perhaps he had a popular American TV show. The man finally introduced himself, "I'm Donald Trump"

_Oh, of course! Donald!_ Erik thought to himself. Trump was wearing a most interesting black t-shirt. On the front it said "The end is near" and there was a holographic picture of the earth exploding, over and over again as the light hit the picture in different ways. When Donald sat down at the xylophone they caught a glimpse of the back of the shirt, which said "told you so." Jeoffery thought the shirt was so funny that he burst out laughing, rolling around on the floor with tears leaking out of his eyes. People stared at him like he was crazy, and Andre muttered, "Good God Jeoffery, it's not that funny."

The patron eventually got himself under control, and straightened himself up in his chair. He cleared his throat and arranged his tie, and said "Proceed." Donald nodded, and began to play. Amazingly, it was actually quite good. In fact, it was extremely good. Reyer could not believe it; he had never heard such a good xylophone player in all his year's conducting the Opera Populaire's orchestra. Erik was stunned; this man was amazing, better even then he himself. Actually, the xylophone was really one of Erik's weak instruments. He had tried them all at one point, and he did not have anywhere near the talent of the man on the stage. (You can't say that about very many things Erik tries) Donald's playing was so extraordinary that it really can't be described. It was like taking a rainbow and wrapping it in marshmallow fluff and baking it in the oven at 350 degrees for 10 minutes until it was golden brown and delicious. That's how good it was. Everyone in the audience had looks of absolute pleasure on their faces; Trump's playing was such a blissful relief to all the other performances, which had sounded like dying rhinoceroses. This music was surely the gateway to heaven, filled with such awesome beauty. Christine had closed her eyes, smiling as the notes washed over her. Erik could simply not believe that the xylophone could sound so good

Soon the song came to an end, and the audience was on their feet, stamping and cheering and giving thunderous applauds, begging for an encore. Donald stood up, first giving a courteous bow to the judges, and then he acknowledged the frantic audience with a low, sweeping bow and a wave of his hands. He was still appeasing the audience by bowing and saluting when all three judges and both managers ran up on stage. Christine, Reyer, Andre, and Firmin encircled Donald Trump, showering him with compliments. Erik hung back, waiting until they had stopped flooding him with praise and slaps on the back before he could congratulate the man himself.

"You were amazing!" exclaimed Firmin.

Christine gave him the most stunning grin, "That was so beautiful!"

Andre gripped his shoulder, "Blue hippopotamus! Uh, I mean, wonderful playing! Err, yeah!" He said, trying to act as if he had not said something embarrassing.

Donald did him the grace of not saying anything, and turned to Reyer, who was saying "Well, Mr. Trump! May I just say that that was utterly amazing! I've seen many xylophonists in my day, but you are by far the greatest! We would be honored to have you as a member of the Opera Populaire's orchestra!"

Trump nodded, "why, yes, I quite like the sound of that" He said.

Firmin grasped his wrist and lifted his hand above his head, triumphantly exclaiming to the audience, "We've found him! The new fourth chair xylophonist! Huzza!" The crowd erupted in applauds once more, and Erik elbowed the managers out of the way to speak to Donald. Everyone took the hint and took a step back to let Erik talk. Donald surveyed the Phantom with interest as he extended a hand. Grasping the black leather glove, Trump smiled at Erik, although he kept his eyes narrowed warily.

"Donald Trump! Now, you must know that I don't say this lightly, not in the slightest bit, but you have some amazing musical talent. Being a musical genius myself, I know a good musician when I hear them."

Donald inclined his head graciously, "Thank you very much. Perhaps we could get together and play sometime?"

Any ounce of friendliness in Erik's eyes died immediately, and he bluntly said, "No."

So the chatter died down, and everyone made their way back to their seats, leaving only Firmin and Donald Trump on stage. The manager put an arm around Trump, grinning, and he addressed the crowd. "Well, we have found our new xylophonist! The amazing Donald Trump! You all heard how wonderful he sounded, and I hope you will all welcome him warmly as the newest member of the opera house's staff! Now I-"

But Firmin did not get to finish his sentence, the back door banged opened again. This time it was four men who walked through the door. Three were the Ghost Busters, Peter was in the front, and Ray and Egon were behind him, dragging the fourth man in between them. I (your wonderful author) will give you a series of hints to help you guess what poor man was being held captive by the exterminators. He has never been mentioned in the story so far. Guesses? Only one person in the entire auditorium knew his name. Still don't know? The person whose eyes sparked in recognition of the man was Erik. Perhaps you have a good guess now? Well, he's Persian. There, now you must know who it is we're talking about. Yup, the poor man being hounded into the auditorium was none other then Nadir Kahn.

Firmin surveyed them from the stage. "Who's that?" He asked.

Peter glanced over his shoulder at Nadir before replying, "I don't know. We found him in the entry hall, I don't know how he got in, or where he came from, or why he's here. He looks a bit suspicious, and he must be from another country, so I figured we'd bring him in here to you. I might say he's Indian. No… could it be Turkish?" Peter trailed off, examining the man, trying to deduce what country he came from. Nadir rolled his eyes.

Erik had gotten up from his seat, and with a fluid grace he walked up the isle, shoving Venkman aside to stand in front of the Persian. "Nadir! My old friend! What brings you here?" Erik exclaimed, warmly putting an arm around Nadir's shoulders.

"Why, I promised that I would come visit you from the book!" He said.

Erik nodded, grinning. "Indeed you did! It's been rather boring here with out you! Oh, Ray, Egon, let him go." The two Ghost Busters willingly complied, scurrying over to Peter where the three huddled together, talking in hushed voices.

The Persian smiled gratefully at Erik, "Thanks. It's good to see you. Who are those guys anyway?" He asked, gesturing to the Ghost Busters.

Erik just sighed, "Oh, they're exterminators. It would really take a while to explain." The audience was watching the two men converse with a stunned silence. It was beyond them to comprehend that the Phantom of the Opera actually had friends.

Christine had gotten to her feet also, and she slowly walked up behind Erik. Lightly laying a hand on his shoulder, she asked, "Erik, who is he?"

Erik jumped at her voice, not having heard her come up. He turned around, so that he was standing in the middle of Christine and Nadir. "This is my friend, Nadir, from Persia. He's visiting from the book" he said. Christine nodded and smiled at the Persian.

Nadir asked, "And who is she, Erik?"

"This is Christine Daae. She is my student, err, well, acquaintance, uh, actually I'm not quite sure anymore." He said, searching for the right word to describe how they knew each other. The ever-suspicious Nadir raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "You know, Daroga1, we really should have a chat. Perhaps tomorrow you could come to my house." Erik offered.

The Ghost Busters perked up and paid attention when Erik mentioned his house, but Nadir looked skeptical. "Your house? Oh, Erik, I don't quite like the sound of that. Is it actually inside the opera house?"

Erik glanced at the Ghost Busters before lowering his voice and saying "I really can't say, not here. Look, ask Christine tomorrow morning, she'll tell you how to get there. Christine, you can walk down without me, right? If you walk with Nadir the rats can't get you. I'll meet you by the lake."

Nadir and Christine both agreed. "Alright. Well, I really must go, I only intended on popping in for a moment, but then I got kidnapped by those freaks with jetpacks… the point is that I have another engagement that I'm late for" Said the Persian.

From behind his hand Erik whispered to Christine, "Probably dinner with his mom."

Nadir turned around again, the expression on his face was of tired annoyance. "You've always had such an insufferably horrid sense of humor, Erik. I have a meeting, if you must know. I'll see you tomorrow then" He said, then jogged out of the auditorium, the tassel on his Persian hat bouncing.

Once Nadir had left, Erik glanced around at the crowd. They were all captivated, but Erik could not tell weather they were completely seduced by him, or simply scared into silence. He began to remember how much he disliked people. "I really have to go too" He told Christine, and began to walk toward the auditorium's door.

Before he could put his hand on the door knob, Peter exclaimed, "Oh, oh no! You're not getting away, not this time!" from behind him.

Erik turned around, his black cloak swirling, to find the Ghost Busters directly behind him, laser things aimed at his chest. He scoffed, looking down on them, for he was taller then all of them. Ray began to shake under his burning gaze, and Egon shifted back and forth, looking at his feet. Erik smiled icily, and said, "Actually I think that once again, you are wrong. You underestimate me, and it really makes my part in this all too easy." And suddenly, unexpectedly, all the lights went off, plunging the hall into pitch black darkness. It only lasted long enough for a couple of people to scream, then the lights were back on, and Erik was gone.

Peter's jaw dropped to the floor, and Egon muttered, "Damn it. We were so close!"

Ray shook his head sadly, "That's the thing, Egon, I don't think we were close at all. He's just so, well, smart. If we even want to have a chance we'll need to work even harder. Tomorrow, we put forth all our efforts toward catching the Opera Ghost. You know, he said that his house was by the lake, so now we have a lead!"

Peter frowned, "Yeah, but we don't have any idea where the lake is, or how to get to it" he said.

All three Ghost Busters sighed, then Egon raised his head, and he looked like he had and idea. "Hey, the ghost said that Christine knew the way. Let's ask her!"

The three men turned to Christine, who was shrinking away from them, her eyes wide. "Um, I have to go!" She stammered, and bolted backstage, leaving the Ghost Busters frowning again.

Firmin suddenly exclaimed, "Well, the auditions are over! Let's go, everybody, nothing more to see!"

People started to stand up, and Madame Giry herded the ballet girls onto the stage, calling "We need the chorus, ballet, and orchestra to stay for rehearsals!" Donald joined the orchestra, and they disappeared down in the orchestra pit, pulling out their music. The crowd filed out of the auditorium and the Ghost Busters had no choice but to follow them.

Andre walked over to Firmin, "Quite a lot to go through for one xylophone player" he said, shaking his head.

**A/N: Yay Nadir! Yay Donald Trump! And yay for rainbows wrapped in marshmallow fluff and baked in an oven at 350 degrees for 10 minutes until they're golden brown and delicious. I like to think that's how good this chapter is ;)**

**This is one of the longest chapters in the whole story, I think. At least of the chapters that have been published. Ah yes, I'm not sure if I've told you this, but let me fill you in. This story is already written up until a certain point, where I am working on it. See, I published it before, or a friend published it for me, then I took it down when I got the net and am starting to publish it myself, or something like that. It's complicated. But anyway, I wanted to let you know that I've got the story pre-written up to chapter 45, so there's plenty for you to read, don't worry. I'm publishing it sporadically, in groups of about 3 chapters, like a normal author does, so that you're not bombarded with fifty thousand pages to read at once. I also do that in hopes that more people will see it after it's been updated and read it. Genius plan, no? Anyway, wanted to let you know, drop me a review and tell me your thoughts. I might not beg "READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!" at the end of every chapter, but know that I really do loooove reviews, I do. 3 so, you know, read and review? I'll be your BFF ^_^**

1 Daroga is Persian for "chief of police" If you didn't read Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay's books


	18. Squirrels for the Vicomte

18. Squirrels for the Vicomte

It was the morning after the big xylophone auditions, and the newest member of staff had settled in nicely. Donald had hit it off straight away with the orchestra, they all thought that he was absolutely amazing, and he thought the same thing about himself. At 5:30 in the morning the grand foyer of the opera house was virtually empty and completely silent, so Erik was prowling the upper balconies looking down on the marble staircase. He knew that the Ghost Busters would be up and looking for him by 6:00, and he wanted to throw fireballs at their heads. The room was dark, no one had come to light the candles yet.

Suddenly the double doors opened, flooding the hall with daylight, and Jeoffery ran in. Well, he didn't run, he bounced and twirled and skipped in, waving his hands above his head with a huge grin on his face. He laughed and yelled to no one in particular, "I'm the Vicomte! Yes! Yes! My brother is finally dead! The wicked wizard of the west, gone! And now I'm the Vicomte! The Vicomte Charuse! Ha ha! Yes! Me! The Vicomte! Victory at last, no longer am I Jeoffery, I am the _Vicomte Charuse_! Mwahaha! Yes, yes! He's dead, and I have been reborn! Ha! I'm the Vicomte! Finally!" He screamed, as he bounced around the hall. He danced, did back flips, gave sweeping bows to no one, did the moon walk, and cart wheeled the length of the hall twice.

Erik watched him from the shadows, with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed. In his head he was thinking, _well this will be annoying; the fop can only get worse now that we have to call him 'Vicomte' Lord knows Raoul was horribly stuck up, what with his money, and title, and that freak haircut!_ Jeoffery skipped and sang around the hall, and Erik studied him like a hawk watching a mouse that had espresso at breakfast. The fop was singing a song at the top of his lungs about how now that he was the Vicomte he was the greatest person in the world, and about how he liked squirrels. Erik wasn't quite sure what the squirrels were about, but he knew that Jeoffery's ecstatic racket would wake up the entire opera house.

Sure enough when Jeoffery was in the middle of his second verse, and a forward flip, Andre and Firmin ran in from their offices. There eyebrows raised in question when the saw their patron doing the running man and singing about squirrels. Tentatively Andre said, "Jeoffery? Uh, has something happened?"

Jeoffery paused in the middle of his song, and ran up to the top of the stairs to the manager, clapping his hands like a delighted child. "Oh, it's so wonderful! My brother finally died! I'm the Vicomte, I'm finally the Vicomte Charuse!" He exclaimed, bouncing from foot to foot.

Firmin nodded and smiled, "Wow! That's awesome Jeoffery, or, should I say, Vicomte? You really seam pretty happy about this."

Jeoffery nodded enthusiastically, his blonde hair flopping in his eyes. "I've waited for this forever. My brother was always a horrible jerk, never once did I get the last cookie, never once did I get a turn on the swing set, and he would always steal my stuffed Barney toy! Well, now I have his title! I've never been so happy in my life, except that time I got to sit next to Reese Witherspoon on the bus" he said.

Andre scratched the back of his head, and replied, "Oh, well congratulations."

Jeoffery was still grinning and hopping up and down in place. "Thanks. You're certainly here early, you know. You were in your office. What made you come in to work?" he wondered.

Firmin said, "Well, we needed to take care of bills, actually, so we figured we would get in early and get a head start."

"Interesting, did you get anything done?"

"Well, actually, we found something suspicious" he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, "See this credit card bill? Look at what they've charged us for…black leather gloves? Satin ribbon? A men's dress suit… but in black? Neither of us wear black. And vanilla scented candles? Why would Andre and I buy any of that stuff?"

"Well then why is it on your credit card bill?" wondered Jeoffery.

"I think the phantom's been using our credit card!" said Firmin matter-of-factly.

From above them Erik gasped, "Damn! They found out. I guess they're not as stupid as they look…" He whispered to himself. He turned around to look at the managers, keeping in the shadow of a marble column.

Andre was looking around the hall, as if he was searching for someone. "Did you hear something?" he wondered to the other two men. Subconsciously Erik knew that he had to do something to distract the managers, and pull the conversation away from Firmin's credit card. He pulled a garden brick from his cloak, thinking to himself, _I had a feeling that I would need this when I took it with me this morning! I guess the voice in my head is right occasionally… you know, Andre was more fun when he had that concussion..._. And he walked over to the railing.

Luckily Andre had stopped scanning the hall and was talking to Jeoffery again. Erik hurled the brick, and due to his good aim it hit Andre on the head with a sickening thunk. Firmin jumped about a foot in the air as Andre crumpled beside him. Jeoffery screamed, and it was quite high pitched, "OH MY GOD!" Firmin bent down next to his business partner, franticly examining him. Andre was unconscious.

Erik stepped into the light, putting a foot on the railing. "What happened, Firmin?" He called down. The still conscious manager jumped again, and both he and Jeoffery looked up at Erik.

"Andre's been hit on the head by a brick!" The vicomte said, unable to put two and two together.

Erik cocked his head, but smiled slyly. "I'm coming down" he said, and climbed up on to the railing, balancing impressively.

Firmin raised his eyebrows, "From there? You're suicidal! Not that that's a bad thing, but I don't want to wipe your blood off the floor. It just got waxed yesterday" He said.

Erik chuckled to himself, and dropped to the floor, landing with the grace of a cat. He straightened up and walked toward the men, keeping his posture friendly and calm, but his eyes treacherous. "What happened?" Erik enquired.

Firmin shrugged, "A brick fell from the ceiling, or somewhere, and hit him on the head. It's a shame really, he was getting better. Hey…you didn't throw the brick, did you?" he wondered, narrowing his eyes at the phantom.

"Me? Hit poor Andre? Why would I do that?" Erik asked, faking his surprise.

Again Firmin shrugged, "I don't know! Because you figured you could kill him, because you had nothing better to do, because you're a freak! I have no idea why you would do it, but I'm sure it was you! Oh, now I'll have to call that doctor again. He was so expensive though, I hope I can afford him."

This took Erik completely by surprise. "Afford him? It's just a doctor's visit; you should be able to afford it. You could afford to buy an opera house, after all" he said speculatively.

Firmin gulped, and rubbed his neck in embarrassment. "Well, to tell the truth, the Opera Populaire only cost 2 francs" he said, and cringed at Erik's expression.

"WHAT? Two francs? You've got to be kidding! I can find that much behind my couch cushions. Damn Lefevre, he promised me he wouldn't let it go for any less then two million! Good god, I'll wring his neck!" Erik growled.

Firmin backed away, nervously saying "You do know that Monsieur Lefevre is in Australia, don't you?" Jeoffery was watching both with interest and humming his squirrel song to himself.

Erik was beginning to get bored with the manager, annoyed with Jeoffery's humming, and did not like standing in the bright, open, golden hall. He sighed to himself, the opera house was full of such stupid people. "Of course I know. I have to get going, you might want to wake up Andre. Tell the Ghost Busters I'm sorry that I missed them." He said, and left the men to go wait for Christine and Nadir by the lake, fuming.

**A/N: Hola readers! Hmm…I don't love this chapter…but I like it enough. It just seems like it could flow more smoothly, or something…I'm not sure. Drop me a review, let me know what you think. I like it enough not to rewrite it. :P**

**I feel I must give a little bit of recognition to the Youtube video Stupid Captions – Phantom of the Opera, because I stole some of it's ideas. Not a lot, just…didn't mention that in the catch-all disclaimer at the beginning (which may be referred to at any time necessary for those thinking of suing me) so I thought I'd throw that in now.**


	19. Daroga: Persia's Cheif of Annoyance

19. Daroga: Persia's Chief of Annoyance

Christine smiled as she led Nadir down to the lake stories below the opera house. The Persian seemed nice enough; at least he didn't question the path they were taking. In fact, it seemed like had been expecting something similar to the candle sticks made of arms or the passageway through her mirror. It had been a bit awkward for Christine leading him through her dressing room, she hadn't known how he would react to the route she would show him, but now that she was in the dark tunnel full of rats with Nadir following complacently behind her, she could relax.

Soon they reached the lake, and Erik was there, leaning against the damp stone wall, staring out onto the expanse of gray-green water. "Hello Erik" Nadir said.

Erik turned his head, and smiled slightly when he saw Christine and Nadir. "Well it took you long enough, I've been standing here forever" He pouted.

The Persian just shrugged, "I woke up later then I would have liked."

Erik got into the gondola and leaned on the pole, offering a hand. Both Christine and Nadir reached for it at the same time, and Erik raised his visible eyebrow, meeting Nadir's gaze. "It's for Christine, not you" he said.

Nadir gaped at him as he helped Christine into the little boat, "Wait, wait, what about me? All three of us can't fit in that boat." Erik frowned, and looked from the boat to Christine to Nadir to the water, "You'll have to swim then" he said solemnly.

The Daroga's jaw dropped even further, and he spluttered, "Oh, no-no, nuh-uh. I will not swim, Erik, you can't make me. You'll just have to take Christine and then come back for me."

Erik shook his head, "But that would take so long, besides, leave Christine alone in _my_ lair? I don't think so."

Christine looked up at him from her position in the boat. "If I'll be a problem, I can always go back to my room and let you two talk" she offered.

Erik looked horrified, "No! No," he insisted, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder, "Please, no. There's no need, I can take you and come back for Nadir" he said. She smiled and nodded, and Nadir sighed as he sat down to wait for Erik to return.

Soon Erik was back with an empty gondolier, and Nadir clambered in. With a grunt Erik got the boat moving, and muttered, "Ugh, Nadir, you could really stand to lose some weight."

The Persian frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know Erik, I don't have to come and keep you company. I didn't have to visit, I could leave if I wanted to" he said.

Erik scoffed, "I don't need your company. Besides, I could always kill you."

"But you know that you never would."

"True, but I have this new torture I've developed that I would love to try out. I strap you to a chair in front of a television, and make you watch Richard Simmons workout videos for 3 weeks straight. Trust me; you'd be dead with in 2 days. I tried it on myself and I only lasted 7 hours, but then again I do have a low tolerance for stupidity."

Nadir shook his head, but couldn't keep from laughing. "Same old Erik" he chuckled to himself. When they reached Erik's lair Nadir clambered out of the boat, grumbling to himself, and looked around him. "Do you think you have enough candles Erik?" he asked sarcastically.

Erik looked around with him, and shrugged. "It's not as if any natural light reaches all the way down here, you know."

"Well of course, but do you really need so many candles? It could be a fire hazard."

Erik just scoffed at Nadir, "If you haven't noticed, Daroga, I live by a lake." Nadir shook head, he knew he would never win an argument against the Phantom; he never had been able to. Erik went over to his organ bench, sitting down and turning to face them. He crossed his legs and gestured for Christine and Nadir to sit near him. "So how have you been Nadir?" Erik asked.

"Not bad at all. I guess not much has happened…" and Nadir proceeded to talk about a few of the highlights of his life and what had been going on in Persia.

When he had finished talking Erik said "Your life seems pretty boring with out me, Nadir."

The Persian laughed, "Actually it's been very nice, very peaceful. I never noticed how annoying you could be."

Erik scowled at him, "Right back at you, Daroga."

Christine, who had been silent so far, looked between the two men and said, "For friends you two certainly disagree a lot."

Nadir looked at her oddly, "Is it even possible to get along with Erik? If there's a way, I haven't found it yet. But we are friends. Beside, he is forever in debt to me" he said.

Erik rolled his eyes, "don't rub it in."

"Well how do you two even know each other?" Christine asked, curious.

Nadir and Erik glanced at each other, and then the Persian proceeded to tell her all about their relationship and time in Persia, going into every detail. Erik would correct him from time to time if he would mistake a fact, and Christine listened eagerly. It took quite a while, and by the time Nadir finally sat back to examine her reaction, it was probably at least 1 o'clock. Christine stared at Erik, "Wow, what else have you not told me?"

"Ha! Trust me, quite a lot."

Nadir looked at the pair skeptically, "And now I must wonder how you two know each other. It seems, Erik, that you have plenty of sketches and pictures of Miss Daae, drawn by your own hand, no less. Perhaps I would be correct in assuming that you-"

But Erik cut him off, quickly saying, "Ever the investigating policeman, aren't you Daroga? Yes, well, let me explain to you as you did to Christine. This may take a while also…" And Erik told Nadir everything that had happened from when he first began to tutor Christine up until now, making sure to go into detail about the Ghost Busters.

When he had finished speaking Nadir said, "Well, that explains quite a bit." All three of them were looking at the two people they sat with out of different eyes, all three of them holding new knowledge.

Oh no… the silence had begun to stretch unbearably again, and finally Christine had to say "So what do we do now?" Erik stood up and clapped his hands together happily. "I need to feed my giant squid" he said. Both his guests looked at him like he was wearing pink.

"Giant squid? What on earth?" Nadir demanded.

"You feed that thing?" Christine said incredulously.

Erik shrugged, "I can't let it go hungry" he said as he disappeared into another room. He came out with a huge stack of books and one KC strip steak.

"What's the steak for? I thought he- or it -only eats paper" she wondered.

Erik walked over to the lake's edge and crouched down, setting the pile of books next to him. "I want to see if it eats meat" he replied. Christine hurried over to the water and sat on her heels next to Erik.

Nadir hovered behind them, "Is there something I'm missing? What is all this about a giant squid?"

"You'll see in a moment" Erik assured him. All three held their breath as Erik tossed the steak into the water, but it sunk. There was no sign of the giant tentacle.

"I guess steak doesn't float" Christine said.

Erik nodded and said, "Well now we know that it doesn't eat meat. That's a good thing, but now I'll have to buy books all the time." He picked up a book off the top of the stack; it was _Silver Bullet_ by Stephen King. Christine looked at the pile, studying the titles. There was _Missery, Rose Madder, Cujo, Stand By Me, Carrei, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redeption, _and _The Stand_, all by Stephen King.

"Do you have something against Stephen King?" Christine asked.

"Nothing against him, but he's not my favorite author of all time. I think the giant squid likes him the best though, I've tried quite a few different authors and genres and King seems to be the most popular" replied Erik.

Nadir was still confused, "I still don't see what giant squid you're talking about." Erik held up a finger, and the Persian fell silent. Erik tossed the book on to the lake, and it barley stayed on the water for a second before it was pulled into the depths of the lake and munched up by the creature dwelling in the murky water. Christine and Erik had watched this calmly, but Nadir jumped a foot in the air when the tentacle had burst from the water. "Allah! That's incredible! And extremely unnerving!" the Persian exclaimed.

Erik threw more books in the water, going down the pile. "Don't worry. It only eats paper. At least I think it does… I haven't tried an actual human body yet. Maybe I'll kill the next pizza delivery guy" he said.

Nadir frowned, "killing isn't good, Erik" he said. Erik ignored him, and tossed the last book in the lake. He stood up and walked away from the water. Christine and Nadir followed him and they all sat down again.

Christine starred at Erik, who was examining his sleeve, and asked, "Erik, how are you so powerful? I mean… how can you do all that magic?" He looked up, surprised.

Nadir laughed, "Well he's a genius"

Erik smiled, "Thank you Nadir, but actually, it's my shirt."

Christine blinked, "Your shirt?"

"It gives me superpowers!"

Nadir shook his head, "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good, because you really shouldn't" Erik replied.

After a moment of silence the Persian said, "Well, it seems you have a new pet Erik."

Erik rolled his eyes, "Some pet. I would much rather have a cat…or a goldfish."

Christine smiled, "Raoul used to keep goldfish, but he would get dreadfully depressed and cry all over me when one would die. It was annoying…" she said, her forehead creasing as she remembered Raoul's pets.

Erik cleared his throat hastily, and said "Okay, no goldfish. I would love to have a cat, though."

Christine nodded, "Cat's are precious."

Nadir crossed his arms over his chest, laughing again. "Come on Erik, a cat? No cat would get within a square mile of you, it's impossible for you to be kind to a living being."

"Oh, what do you know" Erik snapped, sneering at Nadir.

Christine said, "I can't believe you call yourselves friends. You're like House and Wilson."

Erik actually smiled, "You know, we really are. I'm the arrogant, sarcastic jerk, and Nadir is the poor unfortunate sap that can't live without me. It fits." Nadir said nothing, just narrowed his eyes and growled from somewhere deep in his throat.

The three continued talking for a while, but eventually Christine had to go to rehearsals for _Tosca_. Erik was going to take Christine to the mirror, and Nadir would wait in the lair so he and Erik could talk more. Before she got into the gondolier Christine turned to Nadir and asked "The gala for _Tosca_ is in 3 days, will you come to see the show?"

Nadir considered for a moment, and then he said, "Well, I'll be visiting for a while longer, I would love to come see an opera. I'll buy a ticket today."

Christine beamed, and waved goodbye to the Persian. Soon Erik was back, and he and Nadir talked more. They didn't have much else to say, but eventually Nadir confessed that he had bought a motorcycle. Erik raised an eyebrow, "Midlife crisis?" he asked.

Nadir sighed, "I knew you would say that. I don't know, it was so shiny…and red…it was calling my name! I had to get it!"

After that the Persian had to leave, and Erik dragged him up to the world above ground. When they parted Erik said, "Well it was good to see you, Nadir."

Nadir nodded, and clapped Erik once on the back before walking away. "You too, Erik, you too."


	20. Success is Doubtfull

20. Success is Doubtful

Christine sat with her back against a wall, watching the chorus parade around the stage. They were having full-blown dress rehearsals for _Tosca_, and Christine was sitting out when she was not needed in the number. When the song ended Madame Giry called the ballet girls. They all gathered around her, but Meg broke away and pranced over to Christine. "Oh, Christine, your aria sounded so beautiful!" She praised.

Christine smiled warmly at her friend, "Thanks Meg. The ballet's coming along really well, too."

Meg scoffed, "Mother certainly doesn't think so."

"I'm sure she's proud of you, Meg."

"It's not me; it's the entire corps de ballet. I've had enough of her nagging us, so I thought I would come and talk to you." Then Meg's eyes lit up with what could only be gossip, and she leaned in closer to Christine to say, "Did you know that the Vicomte is going to sit in the Phantom's box for the performance? Apparently he's not very smart, but he is fairly handsome."

Christine smiled, "Trust me; he has no brains at all. I doubt he even knows what day of the week it is! If he really is going to sit in box five, he's got something coming to him."

"Yup, the ghost will not be happy. So have you really talked to him, Christine?"

Christine fidgeted, clearing her throat. "Uh…yes."

Meg's eyes were bright again, and she eagerly asked, "What was he like?"

Christine blinked, "Well…um…"

But she was cut off by Madame Giry's harsh voice, "Meg! Come here! Yes, now!" Meg got up and joined the other ballet girls, grumbling.

Christine was just about to join her, because she had a large part in the next song, when the Ghost Busters rushed into the auditorium. They ran through the red velvet seats, franticly chasing after something that wasn't there. They scattered, all of them pointing their lasers at shadows, or moths, or nothing. They went on like this for 5 minutes, meeting together, breaking up, pursuing the air, or something only they could see. No one on the stage was surprised by this, not as they had been the first time it had happened. The Ghost Busters had been doing this the entire day, interrupting the rehearsals every 15 minutes or so.

When Madame Giry had demanded to know why they behaved like that, Peter had replied, "We're ghost hunting!" and dashed down a hallway, reappearing in a box at the back of the auditorium. They had continued to "hunt ghosts" for the past 2 hours, and it was annoying everyone. The cast waited, they had accepted that there was nothing they could do, and they let the Ghost Busters rush around the hall, waiting until they were gone to continue singing.

Before she walked on to the center of the stage, Christine said to herself "Boy, it's going to be along rehearsal." And she was right…

Firmin and Andre sat at their big mahogany desk it their office. Firmin had his hands clasped and resting on the table, patiently awaiting the Ghost Busters, who he had summoned to the office. Andre was trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle using a banana. Unsuccessfully, as you may guess… Moments later Peter, Ray, and Egon entered and sat down in the chairs that were set before the managers. All three raised their eyebrows at Andre, glancing questioningly at Firmin. Firmin sighed, and took the mangled banana out of Andre's hands, and Andre began thumb wrestling with himself. "He has another concussion." Firmin explained regrettably.

Egon frowned, "again? How did he get this one?"

"Someone hit him in the head with a brick" said Firmin.

"Do you know who?" asked Ray.

Andre raised his head, "Lady Galadrial!"

Firmin laid a hand on Andre's shoulder, "No Andre, not Galadrial. You just be silent now, here, play with this" he said, and handed Andre a calculator.

Andre said "marmalade" then was immediately engrossed with the calculator, even though he was holding it upside down.

Firmin turned toward the Ghost Busters, "I think I do know who hit him, Gentlemen. It was the Opera Ghost. Now, aren't you supposed to be catching the Opera Ghost? Did I not hire you to get rid of him?"

Peter opened his mouth in protest, "You must understand, monsieur, that we are trying. We are using all of our technology and skills, and pursuing him to the utmost of our abilities."

"Well then why haven't you caught him?" asked Firmin.

"He's just to smart! He has too many tricks! We can almost never find him, it would be impossible to sneak up on him! The only times we see him are when he's allowing himself to be seen, and if we get the chance to corner him, then he just mocks us, turns off all the lights, and disappears! We have absolutely no clue how to track him!" Dr. Venkman pleaded desperately with the managers.

Firmin frowned, "I know he's a genius, I've seen the super-natural freak tricks that he plays, but you three men will not get paid until he's gone. I want the Phantom out of here, and I want you to get it done! You'll just have to work harder, I'm afraid."

The Ghost Busters nodded their heads solemnly. Firmin smiled grimly, and clasped his hands together. "You may leave now." He said, and Peter, Ray, and Egon got up and walked to the door. Just as they were about to leave, Firmin said "Oh, yes. Keep a watch for him during _Tosca_, he may try to get his box back from Jeoffery, so be prepared. You'll be in mine and Andre's box, which is right across from box five, so look out for him." The three exterminators nodded, and walked out of the office.

When the heavy wood door had shut, Firmin turned to Andre. The concussed manager was still toying with the calculator, pressing the five button repeatedly. Firmin sighed, "I just don't know what I'm going to do, Andre. This running an Opera house business is more difficult then I thought it would be. Wait I know!" And he yanked open a drawer of the desk. He shuffled through old papers until he found a book at the bottom that he had forgotten about. Firmin pulled it out triumphantly. The title across the top of the book was, _Running an Opera House for Dummies_. Firmin turned to the index, found the page number he wanted, and leafed through the handbook until he found the heading he was looking for.

On the top of the page it said, _What do I do if the Opera Ghost is bossing me around and telling me to do stupid things?_ Under that in bold letters these words were printed: _DO WHAT THE GHOST WANTS. DO NOT CALL THE GHOST BUSTERS, WHATEVER YOU DO. TO AVOID DISASTER AND CERTAIN DESTRUCTION, SURRENDER ANY AUTHORITY YOU ARE CLINGING TO AND OBEY THE GHOST. WE REPEAT, DO NOT CALL THE GHOST BUSTERS._ The color in Firmin's face drained, and he had a look of hopelessness that a man who had just received his death sentence would wear. He gulped, slowly shutting the book, and bleakly said, "I have a feeling that I've made a mistake. Perhaps this whole thing will not end so well…"

Andre looked up at Firmin, grinning. "Our children's is learning!" He exclaimed proudly.

Firmin frowned, adding to his expression of utter despair. "I need an aspirin. Or a martini…" He muttered, shaking his head in defeat.

**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? I want to thank everybody that's been reading! And especially those of you that have been reviewing! I realized that I've lost some of the people who read the story before when my friend was posting it…and I feel really bad that they don't get to see it through…but, for those of you that are here now, I love all of your feed back! I want to give a special thanks to Bella's Sister and Erik Spice, my most faithful reviewers ^_^ love all your comments!**

**Alright, alright, enough already, eh? Haha, lets keep reading! If I'm getting sappy at 22 reviews…imagine what will happen when this story has dominated the entire phandom…I suppose I'm getting ambitious too, hmm?**


	21. Tosca

21. Tosca

The night of _Tosca_'s gala had arrived. The auditorium of the Opera Populaire was packed full of people, every single red velvet seat was occupied. Everyone was very exited to see the new opera, and far from scaring people away, the incident with Bouquet's murder during Il Muto had only sparked interest in the Paris Opera House. The public was very intrigued at the prospect that something odd might happen during this performance, plus there was a big party in one of the empty ballrooms after the show. The audience was chatting with the people they were seated by, patiently waiting for the curtain to go up. The women wore fancy gowns and long white gloves, with diamonds and pearls glittering around their necks. The men were dressed in their best suits. When you went to an opera you had to look your absolute best, because half the appeal of theater was being seen by your fellow Parisians.

Firmin and Andre were seated in their box with the Ghost Busters, and Firmin was leaning over the edge to examine the crowd below. "Quite a good turn out" he said, sitting back in his chair.

Egon said, "This looks like it's quite a big deal here."

Firmin nodded, "The Populaire is the main thing you do for entertainment here in Paris. Everybody who's anybody can be seen at the opera." Andre was being silent; Firmin had brought him a graphing calculator in the hopes to keep him quiet through the whole performance.

Suddenly another person entered the box. It was Nadir, and he squeezed through the seats until he came to the only empty chair, which was next to Firmin. The Persian smiled at the manager, "Monsieur Firmin! Hello, it's nice to finally meet you in person" he said, and extended a hand.

Firmin grasped his had warily, and asked, "Hello. Uh, may I ask who you are, Monsieur?"

"I'm sorry, my name is Nadir Khan. I am the Daroga (the chief of police) in Persia. I'm here in Paris for a long vacation, though, I needed a change of scenery." He explained.

Firmin still looked a bit uncertain of the man, and he asked "Aren't you the one the Ghost Busters dragged in during Paris Idol? Aren't you friends with the Opera Ghost?"

This caught the Ghost Buster's attention, and they all looked over at Nadir, who was saying, "Well, it depends on what you mean by friend, I did know him, that is our paths did cross, at school. No, wait, wrong musical, never mind… but on a different subject, did I hear that you're having a party after the performance?"

Firmin looked slightly disappointed. "Yes, in the ballroom-" he said, but he stopped as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Jeoffery had just walked into box five and sat down. He smiled as he looked around the auditorium. He spotted Firmin and Andre and waved in their direction.

Nadir followed the managers gaze and gasped, "Is that the Vicomte in Erik's box? Oh, nothing good can come of this."

Firmin shrugged, "He was bet 1,000 francs to sit there during the opera. If nothing else, he'll make good bait for the Opera Ghost." Nadir said nothing. Suddenly the curtains swung open and the auditorium fell silent as music started to play.

Andre looked up at the stage, then over at Firmin. "The race is starting! Go Speed Racer!" He said happily.

Firmin put a finger to his mouth, "Shhh, Andre, just watch the show, or play with your calculator, quietly."

Andre nodded, and he said "Ceiling fans" before giving his attention back to his calculator.

Christine was backstage, and a seamstress was putting the final touch on her dress before she had to join the chorus on stage. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach; she was still so new at performing in the spotlight. The seamstress clipped a last loose string and pushed Christine on to the stage. Her mind raced as she looked out at the audience, _It's okay, Christine, you can do this. Just remember what Erik taught you, you'll be fine!_ She smiled as she thought of her lessons with Erik, it seamed so long ago. Christine opened her mouth to sing, and everyone in the audience could swear that it was an angel's voice they were hearing on stage. Nadir knew better though, _Erik really must be a great teacher,_ he thought.

Erik was, as he had done during Il Muto, climbing through passages backstage that only the most experienced fly man would know of, until he reached the inside of the dome at the top of the auditorium and was level with the sparkling crystal chandelier. No one noticed him as he stood on the thin balcony, his black suit contrasting the fluffy clouds and naked babies painted behind him. Erik stared down at the opera-goers below him, and immediately found Jeoffery sitting happily in box five. He smirked, and to himself he said, "Let's see if the Vicomte Charuse can take a message any better then dear Raoul could…" He glanced at the stage, Christine had stopped singing for the time being and the ballet girls were prancing around the stage, doing something odd with orange scarves. Thinking that this would be a perfect time to interrupt, he threw his voice and it resounded around the auditorium, causing everyone to jump out of their skin. With great menace Erik addressed the managers and patron, commanding "I do believe we've been through this before, gentlemen, and my requests have not changed. I want box five empty. And Jeoffery, no matter how much you were bet, I want you out of my box!"

Erik smirked as he watched the manager's faces, or at least Firmin's. Andre continued to fiddle with his calculator and mutter an Amish chant under his breath, but the color had drained out of Firmin's face, and he sank down into his chair a few inches. The audience and the performers on stage were franticly searching the hall to find the source of the voice; some had spied Erik up by the chandelier and gasped. But Erik was watching Jeoffery, not caring if he was seen by the public or not.

The patron had noticed Erik and was gaping up at the black cloaked figure. His brown eyes were wide with fear and amazement, and he exclaimed, "OMG!" Then he gasped, and ripped something out of a pocket of his coat. It was a stick of deodorant, and he franticly began applying it to his underarms. On the stick's wrapper it said, _Degree Girl, Protection for every OMG! moment._ Obviously the vicomte had taken it a bit too seriously. Erik watched Jeoffery with interest as he put on the deodorant, but the patron showed no signs of leaving and handing the box over to Erik.

Finally Meg spied Erik, and she pointed up to the chandelier and screamed, "HE'S HERE! THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!" Erik frowned, and slipped out the door that he came through.

The Ghost Busters had watched the ghost with interest, and once he was gone the sat back in their chairs and put their heads together, talking quietly. Peter said, "So we know he's not afraid to tell the management what he wants, or to make an impression. We'll probably see him again tonight, and if we do we will try to sneak up on him without being noticed. Then we can get rid of him for good. So keep your eyes peeled and if we spot him again let's move quickly." The other two nodded, and then turned back to the opera. Christine was singing again. _That ought to draw the Opera Ghost to watch the show…_ Ray thought to himself. Peter was scowling at the performers on stage (it was known that Dr. Venkman was uninterested in anything to do with the arts) and Egon had removed the hose from his proton pack, cradling it in his arms as he scanned the auditorium.

Erik prowled down one of the opera houses hallways until he came to the door of his box. He pushed open the door, deciding that if Jeoffery would not listen to threats, he would remove the patron by force. The heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, and the patron turned slowly around, and turned green as he saw the phantom of the opera framed in the doorway. He let out the smallest "eep" and tried to hide behind the back of his seat. Erik laughed coldly as he walked over to Jeoffery and grasped the back of the Vicomte's jacket, forcing his head back. Now Jeoffery's face had turned pale gray, and he had begun to quiver.

Erik sneered at him, "Well, Jeoffery, since you can't obey, I'll just have to force you out of my box. I hope you've got 1,000 francs." And he drug the vicomte out the door by his collar and flung him into the hallway, where he hit the wall. Erik slammed the door behind him, and proceeded to settle into his box, watching the performance. For a while he observed the chorus and ballet, making note of what was done well and what could have been better. He noticed that the orchestra sounded particularly good, and that Christine was doing extraordinary. He smiled, _She's been practicing._ Erik could swear that more than once she raised her eyes to box five, searching for him.

But soon, he felt something tug on the hem of his cloak, and become snagged. Erik looked down to see that there was a cat sitting by him, one claw caught on the hem of the black fabric. It was an adult male cat, skinny, and rather small. It had a very lithe body, a slim head, and huge ears. Its sleek fur was a sandy, caramel brown color, and its eyes were the most magnificent gold. Erik thought it was an oriental cat from Asia, probably a Somali. The cat opened its mouth wide, letting out a loud yowl. "Shhhh!" Erik tried to quiet the cat, and it only cried once more. Erik smiled, these cats were always very vocal and loved attention, and to prove it the cat leapt on to Erik's lap and curled up. Soon he was purring loudly, and Erik quietly said "Look's like I've found a pet. Well, take that Nadir, cats love me." The pair watched the opera together, although Erik occasionally glanced over to see if the Ghost Busters were still there, and the cat slept most of the time.

Ray was enjoying the opera, finding that it was actually fairly entertaining. He leaned over to ask Egon if he was enjoying the show, but found that both Dr. Spengler and Dr. Venkman were starring at something across the theater. Ray cocked his head, "What are you two looking at?" he asked.

Peter turned toward him, "Look! The Opera Ghost! He's in his box. We should get up quietly and sneak up to his box, and we can go in the door really quietly and shoot him with our proton packs from behind! It will be perfect, but we'll have to do it very, very carefully. If he hears us then it will never work. Come on, let's go, and remember, quietly!" Both other Ghost Busters nodded, and the three crept out of their box and into the hallway. Firmin didn't ask them anything, he was too busy watching the ballet girls.

Erik was also watching the ballet girls, (hey, what else was he supposed to do when Christine was not on stage?) but when he looked over to the box where Ray, Peter, and Egon were supposed to be he saw them sneaking out into the hall, trying their best to be stealthy. Erik sighed, "Grrrr. Hey, cat, get up" he said, and lifted the cat off of his lap. Erik wanted to see the Ghost Buster's expressions when they walked in and found his box empty, because he knew that they had left the performance to come look for him. He decided to hide in his magical, magnificent, handy-dandy hollow marble column, (his own genius invention) and the cat scooted under the chair that Erik was sitting in.

In a few minutes the door creaked open and the Ghost Busters crept into the box, barely breathing. They looked around for a moment. Egon couldn't see the ghost anywhere, and without thinking he said, out loud, "Hey, where is he?"

Peter threw his arms in the air, "Oh my god, Egon, you've ruined it all! We were supposed to be quiet! Thanks…" He said angrily.

Egon searched the box desperately, "Well he's obviously not in here!"

Ray shook his head, "I just don't get it, we did everything perfectly. I guess he must have seen us leave the Manager's box. Oh well, let's have a look around just in case." The other two agreed and they all began to scour the box, searching for anything, really. They had no idea exactly what to look for, so they just peered into all the cracks and corners to see if there was anything interesting. Peter got down on his hands and knees to check under a chair, but it happened to be the one that Erik's new cat was hiding under. Dr. Venkman stuck his head into the shadows and came face to face with glowing amber eyes, not to mention some very sharp claws.

He jumped up, howling, "Ow! There's a cat under there! Ouch, and it slashed my face!" There was indeed a long gash running down his right cheek, trickling red blood. From his hiding place, Erik smiled. _I think I'll like this cat…_ he thought. The Ghost Busters all agreed that they would just have to wait for the next opportunity and search for the Opera Ghost then, so they filed out of the box, Peter moaning with a hand clasped over his cheek. They headed back to their box to answer questions from a curious Firmin and Nadir.

Erik reappeared, and he sat back down in the velvet chair. The cat slithered out, and turned its head up to Erik. It surveyed him for a moment with its lamp-like golden eyes, and once it was satisfied that the man in the chair was the same as last time, it jumped onto his lap in one fluid movement. It started to purr immediately and began to rub against its new master's cheek, and pressed its head into Erik's hand. The phantom stroked his new pet, and told it, "Thank you. Good job a minute ago, uh…cat. You'll need a name eventually, you know." The cat just purred louder, and put its front paws on his shoulder so it could stick its nose in Erik's ear. "I love cats; they don't care what you look like, or how many people you've killed. Cats are much better than humans; they can never break your heart or call you a freak. And they're much better than giant squids, because they can curl up on your lap. I'll show Nadir that I can be kind to another being, isn't that right, uh, cat. Maybe I shouldn't talk to you. After all, you're asleep and I could be watching Christine…" He trailed off, and the cat was breathing deeply, still next to his ear. They watched the opera together, but Erik had one regret. He voiced it to himself, "So I'm watching an opera, but it's not with a girlfriend, not with an old high school buddy, not with a family member, it's with a cat. That's a bit pathetic, although I suppose the reason for this would be that I have no girlfriend, no high school buddies, and no family. You are my only friend, cat. Except for Nadir, of course, but he doesn't count. I wonder if Christine will like me more now that I have a cat…" The cat slept on, unaware of Erik's emotional problems. The audience below them watched the opera contentedly; unaware of everything other then the performers and the party that would take place in just a bit.

**A/N: kitty ^_^**


	22. Mr Snuffaluffagus

22. Mr. Snuffaluffagus

The singers and dancers on stage took their final bows, and everyone in the audience gave them a standing ovation. Soon everyone was standing up and clambering to get out of the auditorium and go to the after party. Some of the Opera Populaire's workers were guiding people to the ball room, and the performers had disappeared backstage to change so that they could attend the party also.

The room that the gala would take place in was the largest ball room that the opera house had, and it was only used for special occasions. It was a large hall, and it was very beautiful. The high ceiling was painted with flowers and lined with a golden scalloped trim. One of the walls was entirely covered in shimmering mirrors, to make the hall seem even bigger. The floors were tiled with marble and gold.

Now the guests were either dancing in the middle of the floor, or they were standing to the side, talking to the other opera goers and sipping champagne out of itty bitty glasses that were always used at parties. The managers were chatting with the Ghost Busters, Nadir was wandering around talking to random strangers, and Christine was surrounded by a group of people, being showered with compliments and flowers. She wasn't used to much attention and it made her a bit uncomfortable, so when she got the chance she slipped away and joined the managers. Donald Trump was also surrounded by people, but he was thoroughly enjoying it. He liked people commenting on his wonderful xylophone playing, or on the shirt was wearing, which was quite interesting. It was black, and in white lettering it said, _Come to the Dark Side, We Have the Cookies!_ Under the words there was a picture of the devil holding out a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Everyone wanted to know where he got it. Donald told them he found on it eBay.

After a while, Trump had drunk all of his champagne and listened to enough of his fan's chattering. He spotted Jeoffery standing against a wall and walked over. "Hey Jeoffery, what's happening?" he greeted the patron.

Jeoffery smiled, "Hello Donald. You know, I've just had the most brilliant idea! Would you like to hear it?" he asked.

Donald said, "Sure."

"Well, I've decided to make my very own club. It will be called, Club Fop!" Jeoffery said happily.

Donald frowned, "And dare I ask who will be in your club?"

"Fops!"

"Of course. So what will you do?" Trump asked.

The Vicomte replied, "We will travel to Paris and sample fine cheeses!"

Donald sighed, "We're already in Paris, you dolt."

"Well then we'll go to Borneo and contract the malaria virus, then we'll become nuns!" said Jeoffery happily.

Donald just stammered, "Uh, that's nice, Jeoffery, really… I've got to go…you might want to, um, back away from that drink there…." and he dashed away from the patron, going to get another tiny glass of champagne for himself.

Jeoffery smiled to himself, "Alright. Hmmm, maybe Christine will dance with me. I'll go ask!"

Soon Christine had gotten bored of standing around talking, and she had no desire at all to dance with Jeoffery, so she slipped away from the patron and out of the ball room. She was surprised to find that Erik was standing on the marble stair case, a cat perched on his shoulder. He smiled at her, "I thought you might get tired of that party. No one to dance with?" he asked.

But Christine ignored his question and said, "Erik, it's a kitty!"

He rolled his eyes, "I know that."

"Aw, it's so cute! Where did you find it?" She said, and walked up the stairs to Erik. Tentatively she reached out a hand to the cat, and it let her stroke its head. Soon it had begun to purr, and Christine grinned. Erik decided that if the cat was making her happy, he would go ahead and run with it.

"Actually, it found me. He came to my box during the performance and sat on my lap."

"Does he have a name?" Christine asked.

Erik said, "Not yet, but I have some in mind. Which do you like better: Demeter, Achilles, or Baal?"

Gently Christine lifted the cat off of Erik's shoulder, cradling it in her arms. For a moment she looked at it, and then frowned. "None of those are right for him, Erik. I think you should name him Mr. Snuffaluffagus. That name is perfect, and it's adorable!"

Erik shook his head, "What? I'm not going to name my cat that! Look, I know the perfect name for him. How about Apollo?" he said.

"No! Erik you must name him Mr. Snuffaluffagus, please?"

Christine pleaded with him, but Erik said, "Christine, I'm the Phantom of the Opera. I kill people. Do you honestly think I'm going to name my cat Mr. Snuffaluffagus? I can't!" Christine looked down at the cat, and her bottom lip began to quiver as if she was going cry. Erik sighed, battling with himself. On one hand, he loved Christine far too much to disappoint her, but on the other hand he couldn't allow himself to own a cat named Mr. Snuffaluffagus; Nadir would never leave him alone again. Eventually his obsession won out over his pride. He said "Alright, I'll name him Mr. Snuffaluffagus, Christine, just don't cry." Although he secretly vowed that he would call the cat Apollo as often as he could. The cat, (let's just call him Apollo most of the time, because that's much easier for me to type) sprang from Christine's arms on to the floor, where he began to circle Erik's ankles.

Christine had brightened immediately, and she grinned up at Erik. "Really? Oh, thank you so much!" and she threw her arms around him, hugging him. "Thank you Erik" she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. Gently Erik put an arm around her back, and realized that he would have named the cat Barbie for her to show him even this shred of affection. Well, maybe.

Suddenly the ball room's door opened and the managers and Ghost Busters walked in, chatting. Andre was laughing heartily, but Firmin was surveying him like he was, uh, crazier then he previously had been. It must have been a joke only concussed people would get. Then their footsteps stopped as the 5 men entered the grand entry hall, and noticed Christine and Erik. Their jaws dropped as they were stunned into silence, except for Andre, who continued to laugh to himself. Out of the corner of her eye Christine spied the Ghost Busters, and she took a hasty step away from Erik, her eyes growing wide. The Phantom narrowed his eyes at the managers, trying to decide what course of action to take next. Apollo planted him self in front of Erik, his hair standing up and his tail bristling at the threat of the Ghost Busters. For a moment all 7 people, (and the cat) stared at each other, then the three Ghost Busters made eye contact with each other. In a confident movement Peter Venkman drew the hose of his jet pack and screamed to Ray and Egon, "TO HELL WITH CAUTION! LET'S GET HIM NOW!" So the exterminators charged to the marble staircase, brandishing their weapons as they ran. It was like the Ancient Persians running to meet the Spartans in a bloody battle, but the Spartan army seemed to be lacking enthusiasm. Erik only frowned and raised an eyebrow. He showed no sign of taking action or getting out of the way, except for holding one hand out in front of him. The fearless Persians screeched dumbly to a halt, like children being forced by a policeman to stop at a crosswalk.

Erik smiled, but his eyes burned with fire. "Yes, let's just stop. Now did you really think that that strategy was going to work?" The Ghost Busters just stood there, bluntly starring up at him. Erik continued coldly, "If you ever want to win this war I think your best bet will be stealth, and you'll need to use your brains. That is, if any of you even have any brains to speak of."

It was impossible to tell by the Ghost Busters expressions whether they were scared, angry, or simply didn't know what to do. Ray had opened his mouth, but words were failing to come out. Eventually Peter got the fact that they had been insulted and managed to mutter, "Hey…"

But Erik cut him off and said, "I really think I'll leave now, things to do." In fact he didn't have anything to do, but he wanted take Apollo home, not to mention he didn't want things to get awkward. The cat flattened his ears and hissed at the Ghost Busters, then sprang into Erik's arms. He began to walk back up the marble stairs, and Peter, Ray, and Egon just let him go.

When he reached the top step Christine called, "Erik! Bye. And thank you again." Erik turned his head, he said nothing but for a moment his and Christine's eyes met. Apollo poked his head up over Erik's shoulder, and his whiskers twitched as he watched Christine's pretty smile. The cat's slim golden head disappeared again as Erik turned and disappeared down a hallway.

Peter was the first to speak and in a voice filled with loathing he said, "I hate him!" Christine turned around in shock, and Andre stopped playing with the calculator to watch the exasperated exterminators.

Egon put his head in his hands and exclaimed, "Gaaahhhhhhhhh! This is so frustrating! I've never met a ghost as powerful as him! It's like he's just playing with us!"

Ray nodded, "Yeah. We better get paid a heck of a lot when this is over!" he said.

Peter replied, "You got that right! We'll try again tomorrow, but for now do you want to go back to the party and see if they have any champagne left?" The other two agreed, and they trudged back to the ball room.

That left Christine, Firmin and Andre. Andre, noticing the silence, said "Magical Friends!" Firmin shrugged his comment off and walked over to Christine.

She frowned as he laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "You sounded beautiful tonight, Christine, keep up the good work. I do have one suggestion for you though, stay away from the Opera Ghost. Now I don't know, and I really don't need to know, how you know him or why you always seem to be giving him hugs, but I do assume that you know that he's dangerous. I mean, he must be insane, and I really don't think you should talk to him. It may not be my business, but I'm warning you for your own safety." Christine didn't say anything, she was looking down at the floor, her eyes fixed on one marble tile as she thought. Firmin tried again, "Will you take my advice?" he asked.

Christine looked up quickly as if she just realized that he was talking, and replied "What? Oh, well, no. No, I don't think so."

Firmin gaped, "But why?"

Christine just shrugged, "I…have reasons. I've really got to go too. You know, things to do." And she walked off down a different hall.

Now poor Firmin was alone with Andre, and he shuffled down the stairs to the other manager. Firmin sighed, standing next to Andre. "You know, I'm getting really tired of this. I can't decide weather it more pleasant when we just had to deal with the Opera Ghost and the Ghost Busters aren't worth the stress, or if the Phantom was bad enough that we should just put up with the exterminators. I've noticed that the Ghost seems to be developing a sense of humor, or at least a sense of sarcasm. I also can't decide weather I like this new ghost, or if the old murderous one that we never saw was better" he said to Andre, who just gave him a big smile and said, "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair"

Firmin sighed deeply, "My mother was right, I should have become a doctor. Then I would never have had to deal with this. Well, come on Andre, let's go the office and have a chocolate latte."

Andre said, "Kentucky" and then willingly followed Firmin to their office.

**A/N: It's been a bit longer then I would have like, but I hope you guys like these chapters! I myself rather do. You don't need to be reminded that authors like reviews…I'm sure you're painfully aware of that fact by now. It's only been drilled into your skulls by every fic you've ever read. I hope everybody's lives are peachy! Mine is, for the moment at least. Don't you love that phrase? 3**


	23. Full of Fire

23. Full Of Fire

The Opera Populaire had been performing _Tosca_ for a few weeks successfully, and the crowd was still coming. It was true that some people were disappointed that the Phantom of the Opera hadn't made anymore appearances, but they still loved to come hear Christine's beautiful voice and to be seen by their fellow Parisians. Now the managers had come to the fact that they would have to start rehearsing a new opera in just few days, because _Tosca's_ final performance was next Tuesday. The managers had been dreading the meeting that was taking place backstage. Both managers were there, as well as Madame Giry, Christine, Reyer, Nadir, and some performers that were eager to steak out a part in the new opera. Even Carlotta had graced the theater with her presence. The diva turned to Firmin and snapped, "Well what are we standing around for? Aren't you going to tell us what opera we will be putting on next?"

Firmin cleared his throat and nodded, "Oh, yes. Well, uh, we have a new opera picked out, and we've agreed to perform it due to the threat of losing our lives. The thing is that we don't have the score, not to mention that we know nothing about it except for that it's full of fire" he said regrettably.

Madame Giry frowned and said, "I don't understa-" but she was cut off by a voice from above them.

"Talking about my opera? I do suppose you'll be needing this." Every one looked up and saw the Phantom of the Opera standing on one of the cat walks above the stage. He held up the leather-bound score of Don Juan in his right hand.

Firmin exclaimed, "Yes, we do need that! Why do you have it, though? You threw it at our feet during the Masquerade!"

Erik looked down at his book of music, running one finger down the side. "I thought that I would keep until I was absolutely sure you would be putting it on. This is my best work, you know. I was worried that you might spill coffee on it or something" he said.

Firmin still looked confused and he wondered, "But how did you get it? I had it in the draw of my desk in my locked office."

Erik gave a small laugh, and looked down at the group of people. "Firmin, don't you think I can pick a lock?" Firmin said nothing, just gulped. The crowd was still craning their heads to see Erik, and after a moment he said, "Then here you go. Do it justice, will you?" and he dropped the score to the stage with a thud that echoed around the silent theatre. Then Erik disappeared into the shadows, giving his cape a small twirl as he left.

Firmin just stood there, making no signs that he would be moving anytime soon. Eventually Madame Giry stepped in front of him and bent down to pick up the score of _Don Juan Triumphant._ She held it out to Firmin, who slowly reached out and took it in his hands. Everybody crowded around the manager, peering over his shoulders as he carefully undid the strip of leather holding the book closed.

Nadir saw the title printed on the front and said, "The name's a little ironic, seeing as it was Erik that wrote this…" Christine was the only one to get the joke, but she laughed anyway.

Carlotta, who was standing next to her, looked at Christine disdainfully and asked, "What's so funny?"

Christine just smiled and told the diva, "Inside joke. You wouldn't get it."

Carlotta gave a little "hmph" and turned to one of her slaves and said, "Get me my doggy!" The maid handed over a fluffy white poodle. Carlotta cuddled it, and the poor dog looked like it would rather be dead.

Every one turned back to Firmin, who was looking through the sheets of music. He pointed out lines and parts to people, and to Christine he said, "You've got the leading female role, Christine, and you'll be singing with Piangi." Christine had smiled when Firmin had mentioned leading role, but the grin was wiped right off her face when he had said that she would be singing with Piangi. But hey, what had she expected?

Carlotta, though, protested. "What?! How can she have the lead! I sing with Piangi! I'm the Prima Donna!"

Firmin shrugged, "Not in this opera. Here, you do have a small part." He said, and he pointed it out on a piece of music. This did not pleased Carlotta, and she immediately went off at Firmin. He cringed and told her, "Please, please, it's the Opera Ghost! He wrote the opera, and he has requests on who should have which part. Please, Signora, we don't want to get killed!" well, that only angered her further.

"You think I care if you die!" she screamed, which caused quite a few people to scoot away from Carlotta. Nadir could already tell that this opera may not go too smoothly…

**A/N: We hear of Don Juan! Are you excited??**


	24. Depression and Chess

24. Depression and Chess

Erik was feeling depressed; he sat at his organ with his elbows resting on the keys, but the sound had long since died out. Apollo sat near him, eyes sparkling brightly as he watched his master. Erik stared at the cat scornfully, knowing that Apollo was content while he suffered through his own emotions. The cat cocked his head to the side intelligently. Erik scoffed at it, "What? So I have mood swings. Look, I'm not feeling good." Apollo let out a sharp, questioning chirp and Erik said, "What do you mean why? My life is pitiful, that's why." Getting up and padding closer to his master, Apollo seemed to urge Erik to continue speaking. "For one, I live in a cave seven stories underground, alone. That's pretty pitiful. I have no family and only one pitiful friend. This is really pitiful, Apollo. I've never been kissed. Not once in my entire life!" he said exasperatedly. Apollo twitched his whiskers and curled his tail around his paws. Erik said, "The only thing remotely pitiful about your life, cat, is that you have to live with me, and of course the fact that I have to call you Mr. Snuffaluffagus in front of Christine." As if in reply Apollo stood up and stretched, then sprang into Erik's lap, where he immediately began to purr.

Later that day Nadir came over to visit, and now he and Erik found themselves playing chess. Of course, Nadir hadn't wanted to play chess because he knew that it was completely pointless; Erik would kick his butt and there was nothing he could do about it. The Daroga had tried to convince Erik to play monopoly, which Nadir actually had a chance of winning, but Erik had told him that that game was stupid and made Nadir give in to a game of chess. Black, which was Erik of course, was already winning by quite a bit. After drearily moving pieces in silence, Nadir said, "You look a little down today, Erik."

After moving his bishop Erik looked up from the chess board and said "Yes, I've just been realizing how horrible my life is."

"Oh, well that's normal then" Said Nadir.

Erik frowned, "You're not helpful, you know. Nadir, why doesn't Christine like me?" he asked desperately.

The Persian raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Are you blind, Erik? Of course Christine likes you!"

"She can't. I mean, how could she?" Erik said, shaking his head.

Nadir replied, "Come on, Erik. You're handsome, romantic, and unlike most men, you actually have emotions. Not to mention you haven't killed anyone in quite a while."

Erik looked down at the floor, "Actually, there was a pizza delivery guy a couple days ago…"

Nadir gave an exasperated sigh, "Erik! What did the pizza guy ever do to you?!"

"I ordered a medium deep dish sausage pizza, and he gives me a large thin crust pizza with green peppers, black olives, and anchovies! Come on, that sounds nothing like sausage, and who would eat that anyways? Yuck. I just had to kill him!" he said defensively.

Nadir rolled his eyes, "Well then, just don't tell Christine, I guess." Erik nodded and they continued to play for a while.

Soon Erik had won the game and Nadir was just about to suggest that they do something else when Erik said, "best 2 out of 3?" The Persian groaned and protested, "Come on Erik, you know you'll win both games. What would the point be?"

"Please, Nadir? I can go easy on you. Besides, what else would you propose we do?"

Nadir was tempted to say that he wouldn't mind a walk in the park or lunch at a café, but he decided that it would be no use. He succumbed to the Phantom and said, "All right, 2 more games, but I swear that when we're finished and you've won, if you say best 5 out of 7 I'm leaving."

Erik nodded, "Fair enough."

During the third game (Erik had won the second, leaving Nadir utterly hopeless of a victory) Apollo stalked up to the pair and looked eagerly up at the small black and white pieces. Erik firmly said "NO!" and shoved the cat away. The Daroga watched Apollo as he slunk out of the room and disappeared behind a curtain.

"That's a very pretty cat, you know. What did you name it?" asked Nadir.

Erik replied, "His real name is Apollo but you must make sure to call him Mr. Snuffaluffagus around Christine. She made me promise to name him that."

"I see" Nadir said quickly, clapping a hand to his mouth and turning his back to Erik. His shoulders began to shake and he couldn't help but to burst out laughing. "AH! HA HAHA! Wow, that's funny! HA HA!"

Erik frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yes, hilarious. It's just so funny. Shut up, Nadir."

Eventually the Daroga got himself under control, taking huge gasps of air and saying, "Okay, okay. Sorry."

They continued to play for a while, Nadir falling farther and farther away from a chance of winning as Erik continued to make all the smart moves. As Erik was contemplating whether to move his knight or a pawn he ran a hand trough his black hair and said, "You know, I could use a hair cut."

Nadir looked up at him, "I know of a really good barber. He's got a shop on Fleet Street, just a few blocks from here. It's above a cake shop or something like that. I've heard that he's the best, gives the closest shave in Paris."

"That sounds good. I think I'll go check it out tomorrow, and maybe I could make him cry like Dr. Willet and get some more tears to sell" Erik said.

Nadir shrugged, "I've heard some weird things about him too, though. Apparently he's kind of creepy, but you can try what ever you want. By the way, how much did you get for the dentist's tears?"

"Some one paid 100 francs for a bottled water demon soul."

"Interesting. Well, let's get on with the chess game." Said Nadir, and they continued to play. Of course Erik won once more, and Nadir left before the Phantom even got the chance to suggest another game.

**A/N: Erik meets a new character next chapter! I bet you know who. How will it go? These parts get fun, guys, stick with me! 3 to eberybuddy. **

"**You shall drip rubies…you'll soon drip precious… rubies"**


	25. The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

25. The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Erik was standing on the cat walk above the stage, watching as the performers practiced _Don Juan_. He had to admit that most of them were getting it right. Christine was doing very well, but she never looked happy when she was singing with Piangi. Erik really regretted making them perform together, their voices didn't mix at all. Luckily, though, she only had to practice with Piangi, during the actual show she would get to sing with some one else… (you all know what I'm talking about…) Soon Erik realized that he was going to go to the barbers today, so he silently left the theater and slipped out of the Opera Populaire unnoticed. Once he was outside Erik walked quickly down the sidewalk, heading for Fleet Street.

The only directions Nadir had bothered to give him were "It's on Fleet Street, over a cake shop or something like that" so Erik figured that he would just walk down the street until he found it. As he came nearer and nearer to Fleet Street Erik noticed that things were getting grayer and dirtier, making everything much more depressing. When he finally reached Fleet Street things almost looked black and white, except for the people walking solemnly along the road who still had color flushed in their faces. All in all the effect was quite interesting. Erik looked around with raised eyebrows and said to no one in particular, "This would make a good setting for a murder musical…or something. This doesn't look anything like the gleaming atmosphere surrounding the Populaire. I wonder if I'm even still in the same time period…"

He walked down the cobble stone street a little before a building on the corner caught his eye. There was an awning in the front with the words "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies" on it, and Erik figured that a pie was close enough to a cake that Nadir's small mind could have gotten the two mixed up. "Meat pies? Gross, who would put meat in a pie? Pies are for blueberries, or apples, or rhubarb…I'm starving. Let's get this over with, if this is the place" Erik said to himself, looking up at the shop. There was a large rectangular window in the slanted roof, he noticed. Erik walked to the other side of the shop and saw that up a flight of stairs there was a door with a red and white striped pole, the sign for a barber shop. He climbed the stairs, and then knocked once on the glass pane of the door. Before he received an answer he pushed open the unlocked door and stepped into the shop.

The room was certainly unprepossessing for a barber with such a reputation; it looked like it hadn't been properly taken care of for a long time. There was a cracked mirror on one wall and the once-yellow wall paper was beginning to peel. The dark, gothic look of Fleet Street had certainly not spared this small barber shop. Although the condition of the premises was worth observing, Erik was watching the barber.

He had been standing next to a chair in the middle of the room, slowly sharpening an ornate silver razor. His back had been turner toward the door when Erik had stepped in, and now he looked up, turning around and laying the razor carefully on a vanity. The barber was pale, and only a few inches above average height. He had dark, shadowy black eyes that examined the Phantom with a calculating yet curious and intense gaze. His wavy black hair was wild, yet it did not look unruly or bad on him, and one white streak ran back through the dark tangles. The barber's clothes were nothing out of the ordinary for a man in those times.

After setting down his silver razor he turned to Erik, and with a small smile he said, "Good day, Sir."

Erik nodded his head respectfully and replied, "The same to you, monsieur."

"What may I do for you today, sir?" Inquired the barber as he took a step forward and gestured for Erik to step into the shop instead of standing in the door way.

The Phantom removed his cloak and said, "A shave and a hair cut, I think. Now, sir, I do want to know you're name. Some one recommended this place to me; they said you give the closest shave in Paris."

"My name is Sweeney Todd, sir. Not to sound arrogant, but I am one of Paris's best barbers. Now, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I used to give to closest shave in London" he said. Sweeney Todd removed the coat form Erik's shoulders and began to undo his collar, and Erik kept talking.

"Closest shave in London? This is Paris, Monsieur. What happened? Did you have to move?"

Sweeney sat Erik down in the chair, shaking his head in reply. "No. Forgive me, sir, but I have no idea what happened. I was working in London, had the same exact shop, and then just some how I'm in Paris. It's all quiet foggy, but it seems like this building just up and moved to Paris, and it took all of Fleet Street, even the judge's house, with it. It's so odd, but a whole section of London is in France now. I don't know why I've told you this, but isn't it so strange?"

Erik said, "That's weird, but in the past month or so I've experienced much weirder." Sweeney shrugged and fixed a white sheet around Erik's neck. As the barber began to work Erik looked up at him and said, "Let me guess, Johnny Depp, right?"

Sweeney Todd paused for a moment to nod, "Yes. Now, let me see…" he examined Erik's face for a moment before saying, "It's Gerard Butler, isn't it?"

The Phantom raised an eyebrow, "Very nice. Some people don't know that because he's not as well know of an actor. You're good."

"Thank you. You know, I haven't gotten your name yet, sir."

"Forgive me. I'm Erik, Erik Destler. People call me The Phantom of the Opera, though."

That caught the barber's interest, "Phantom of the Opera?"

And that got the two of them talking, talking to each other about everything. They asked each other questions, and listened to the other's stories with rapt attention. Eventually it ended up with Sweeney Todd pulling up a chair next to Erik, sitting down and divulging his entire life story. He told the Phantom everything, how he had been taken away from his wife, how Judge Turpin had his daughter Johanna, how he had been threatened by Pirelli, how he slit his customer's throats, how Mrs. Lovett would make meat pies out of his victims, how he was plotting his revenge on the world, and how Anthony was also set on stealing Johanna from the Judge. Of course he left out the irrelevant parts like what he had for lunch or what he read in the paper. Erik listened in silence, amazed by what the barber had experienced. Finally Sweeney Todd finished by saying, "And now I'm desperately trying to find a way to murder the Judge while I slit people's throats to make a living for me and Mrs. Lovett."

For another moment Erik didn't talk, but soon he said, "Well, you certainly have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance."

Todd nodded grimly, "I've had over 15 years to develop it. Trust me, I want my daughter back, and after what he did to my wife, I want that Judge dead."

"I understand" Erik said.

Sweeney Todd stood up and walked over to the vanity, carefully cleaning off his razor and laying it back in the box before picking up a picture frame and stepping back to the Phantom, who was still sitting in the chair. Erik opened the frame, and there was a picture of a young blonde woman with a smiling baby sitting on her lap. Sweeney said, "That's Lucy, and my precious Johanna. She was barely a year old, she had the most beautiful smile. I wanted to watch her grow up, but Turpin saw to that. He tore apart my entire life. Trust me, Erik, you can never know the grief I feel, or how much I hate that man!" said the barber.

Although Erik could see how painful the subject was for Sweeney Todd, he happened to know that he had a past that could actually challenge the barber's statement, because the Opera Ghost had known quite a bit of grief himself. "I'll bet that I've gone through just as much anguish as you have!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." Said Erik, so he handed the picture frame back to Sweeney and began to explain his entire life story, telling the barber about his abusive mother, the Gypsies, his time in Rome with Giovanni and Luciana, his time in Persia with the Khanum and Nadir, the Opera Populaire, and of course about Christine, Raoul, and the Ghost Busters. Sweeney Todd listened to this with the same silent respect that Erik had shown him, nodding appropriately and all together being a good listener. If nothing else, it was clear that these two men found each other interesting.

When he was finished talking Erik turned to Sweeney, who said, "Wow. So that's why you wear the mask. You know, I was going to ask you about that."

"Perhaps you thought I was just trying to make a fashion statement?" Erik suggested. The barber shrugged and the Phantom said, "No, I'm actually horribly disfigured." Sweeney Todd nodded but said nothing and Erik stood up to look at himself in one of the mirrors that wasn't broken. He ran a hand over his dark hair, smoothing it down, and turned back to Sweeney Todd. "You really are a good barber."

"Thanks. You know, I like you, Erik. I don't think I'll slit your throat after all" said Sweeney.

"I appreciate it" Erik said sarcastically.

The barber smiled, "When you came in I expected you to be a normal guy, just another victim, but it turns out that I can't kill you after all."

"Yeah, we're much too alike. So, do you have any friends?"

"Yes, 7 of them."

"Really? Who?"

"Actually, they're my razors…" The barber said, letting his voice trail off.

Erik smirked, "Well, now you have 8"

Sweeney Todd looked up and smiled "Hey, yeah! There's really no way that we couldn't be friends after all that."

"Excellent," said Erik, "now I won't have to spend so much time with Nadir."

The two of them talked for a little while longer, laughing at the occasional joke the other would tell. They were both enjoying having found someone who was as angry at the world as they were. Eventually Erik cleared his throat and said, "Um, you know how I told you about how I make my dentist cry and then see how much I can get for his tears on eBay? Well… when I first came here to get a shave and hair cut I was going to see how much a barber's tears would be worth. Now, though…" he let his voice trail off as Sweeney Todd Burst out laughing.

"Yeah, I don't think you would have been very successful at all. There is nothing you could do to make me cry."

Erik raised one eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "Really? I was going to say that I wouldn't make you cry now because we are friends."

"Even if you wanted to, you could never get me to cry. I bet I could get you to shed a few tears, though." Todd said, smirking.

Erik frowned, "No way. I never cry, although I do have feelings which have been hurt, but I have never let myself cry." Now that wasn't entirely true, but Erik had to keep his image intact.

"I think I could change that"

"Oh really? You want to bet?"

"Excellent idea. Yes, I do want to bet." The Barber said confidently.

Erik smiled maliciously and said "Alright, I'll bet you 50 francs that I can make you cry first"

"And I bet that I can get you to cry before I do. Let's make it 50 pounds, though, I don't use francs."

"But I don't use pounds. Let's make it 50 yen so neither of us can use it."

"Fine…" Sweeney Todd said, coming to stand in front of the Phantom. The two glared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up with the intense gaze that both of them possessed.

After a few minutes they each gave each other the smallest of nods and Erik quietly said, "Let's begin." I can only tell you that a vicious competition ensued. They each did their best to make the other miserable using any strategy that they could get their hands on. Both of them automatically assumed that the only rule was no killing each other. The battle went on for at least an hour with neither of them folding under the pressure of the painful and very strange tests they put the other through. Sweeney Todd began to have doubts about whether such a newly formed friendship could withstand such a grueling duel. When neither of them had leaked a single tear after 90 minutes of the hell they were dealing with, both men resorted to drastic measures. Eventually it ended up that Erik was forced to wear a beard made of cotton candy while square dancing with a clown and Sweeney Todd had to sing "Oops I Did it Again" While wearing a raw turkey on his head. This made neither of them cry, just got them incredibly angry. Erik eventually got so annoyed that he ripped off the pink beard, pulled out his Punjab lasso and strangled the clown. Sweeney heaved the turkey off his head and threw it out the window where it made an ugly splating sound on the street below.

The barber turned and watched as Erik extinguished the life of the clown, then the two of them just stood staring at each other with chests heaving. Erik turned around and examined the clown's dead body while Sweeney Todd walked over to his broken window, a look of dread creeping over his face. "I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Mrs. Lovett…" he said bleakly. The color would have drained from the barber's face, that is, if he had any color in his face.

Erik walked over to Sweeney Todd and put a sympathetic hand on the barber's shoulder. "Yeah, you've got a broken window and a dead clown."

Sweeney glanced at the hand resting on his shoulder before replying, "I can actually take care of the clown quite easily." Erik raised an eyebrow and took a few steps back to watch as Sweeney Todd walked over to the clown's body, grabbed it by the arms, and dragged it behind the barber chair. He moved it just a bit to make sure it was positioned properly before he calmly pressed a foot lever on the side of the chair and the trap door opened, causing the clown to topple 20 feet before hitting the stone floor of the bake house stories below them. Both men peered down the shoot at the clown's crumpled body. The barber cleared his throat and said, "Well, that's taken care of. He'll be made into a pie. I'll probably have to do some explaining to Mrs. Lovett later, I don't usually shave clowns…"

"Yeah, and it was all for nothing, neither of us cried." Neither of them said anything for a while after that, Sweeney Todd walked over to the window and examined the turkey sized hole in the glass and Erik took one of the barbers silver razors and carefully scraped the remaining bits of cotton candy off of his face.

Sweeney glanced over at Erik and exclaimed, "Hey, that's one of my razors!"

"I still had pieces of pink fluff on my face from that stupid beard, okay?" The Phantom replied defiantly.

Todd said, "Fine. Give it back though" And Erik handed the razor back to the barber, who carefully cleaned it and put it back in the box with his other friends.

After another couple minutes of silence Erik suddenly suggested, "Do you want to come to the opera house?"

Sweeney Todd looked surprised, but he quickly replied, "Sure!" So the two men walked out of the barber shop, Sweeney pausing a moment at the door to flip the open sign to closed before pulling the door shut and following Erik down the stairs. They were almost at the bottom steps when they ran into Mrs. Lovett. All three of them jumped in surprise and Sweeney Todd cleared his throat and hastily said, "Oh, Mrs. Lovett. Hi…"

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Mr. Todd, where are you going? And who is this?"

Erik said nothing, so Sweeney was forced to answer, "This is Erik. He lives and works at the opera house and when he came in for a haircut and shave today we became friends. So we're just going to go over to the Opera Populaire for a bit…"

Mrs. Lovett gave them both kind of an odd look and asked Erik, "So why do you have that mask?"

Sweeney Todd opened his mouth to answer but Erik cut him off and said, "I'm trying to set a trend, but so far it's not working very well."

She looked skeptical, "I see…"

"We'll just get going then" Said Todd as the two men attempted to squeeze past Mrs. Lovett on the stairs, but she held up a hand and said, "Oh no you don't. You have to work today, Mr. Todd. I have to be able to feed the lunch crowd!"

"Don't worry about that, there's a dead clown in the bake house. Now we've gotta go!" And they ran past her before she could say another word. They laughed as they walked down the street and the people and buildings got cleaner and more colorful.

Eventually Erik asked the barber, "So how do you like Paris?"

"It's nice here, but I do miss London. There's no place like it, you know."

Erik shrugged, "well, to each his own. Paris smells better then London, though, you can't deny that."

Sweeney Todd chuckled, "I have to give you that one, you're quite right." They made fun of each other's cities the rest of the short walk back to the Opera Populaire.


	26. Soprano Hunting

26. Soprano Hunting

The Ghost Busters were lounging in their lab/room, taking a break from the fruitless efforts they were putting forth toward capturing the Opera Ghost. They were getting very discouraged, so they figured they would come up with some new strategies to catch the phantom. Their brainstorming session turned into Venkman and Stantz playing checkers and Spengler poking at his mold and fungus collection. The only idea they had come up with before Dr. Venkman had suggested a game of checkers was that when they saw the ghost they should not run at him and yell "charge". Now they were all brooding to themselves as they moved the checker pieces, or in Egon's case a rare species of African mold spore. They were all angry at themselves for having such a hard time catching just one ghost. The Ghost Busters could catch the most terrifying of specters in a mater of hours, and yet it was taking them weeks to capture the Phantom of the Opera, and he couldn't even fly.

Dr. Stantz was pondering what move he should make next when Peter suddenly exclaimed, "I HATE HIM!" and slammed his fists down on the checker board, tipping it and all the pieces on the floor. Ray gave a startled yelp and Egon jumped a foot in the air, dropping the Petri dish he had been holding. Egon dropped to his knees to search for any fungus he had lost, and Ray put his head in his hands, sighing.

"God, Venkman, why did you do that? You scared me half to death and you ruined out checker game. I was about to win, too…" said Dr. Stantz.

Peter, still fuming, replied, "Sorry, but I'm just getting so fed up! That Opera Ghost is making me so angry. I barely even care about the money any more, I just want to have him gone so we don't have to deal with him!"

"Yeah, we need to come up with a good strategy or lure him into a trap" Said Ray.

Egon looked up at his colleagues and suggested, "It would be nice if we knew where he lived. Maybe then we could plan an attack, or an ambush!" Ray and Peter turned in their chairs to face Egon, who was still sitting on the floor.

"That would be nice, but we have no idea how to find that out" Peter said, sounding extremely regretful.

Oddly, though, Dr. Venkman's comment made Spengler smile. "There's the thing, there might be a few people that can help us. I think I know at least three people here at the opera house that know where the Phantom lives."

"Who?"

"For one there's the ballet teacher, Madame Giry, she seems to know all about him. Then there's his Persian friend, who we know has been to the ghost's house. Remember, he said so after the xylophonist auditions. Last there's Christine Daae, that brunette soprano that seems know the phantom so well." Peter and Ray raised there eyebrows and nodded, impressed with Egon's knowledge. Dr. Spengler continued, "Personally, I think that we should talk to Christine. It would probably be easiest to get information out of her."

Venkman smiled, "Yup, pretty and, most likely, gullible. We'll bring her back here; she'll spill everything we need to know."

Ray laughed and exclaimed, "Let's go find Christine Daae!" The three men dashed out of the room and took up a new sport; soprano hunting.

They must have been wearing their lucky underwear because they stumbled upon Christine very quickly. They found her headed back to her dressing room after rehearsals for _Don Juan_, humming to herself as she walked. She jumped as the Ghost Busters ran up to her, Ray was in the front yelling "Miss Daae! Miss Daae!" She stopped walking and stood in front of them, looking scared.

Ray gave her a warm smile and said, sounding out of breath, "Christine, you're just the person we wanted to find!"

She looked skeptical. "Why?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'd just like to take you back to our room and ask you some questions about the Phantom of the Opera. Don't worry; we're doing this to everyone. Please don't think that we're seeking you out individually, we're trying to go through all the opera house's staff. No one's had any good information so far…" Peter explained, improvising on the spot.

"Do I have to come with you?" Christine asked.

Egon chuckled and said, "Yeah, you do." Ray grabbed her wrist and the four of them began to walk back to the lab. Christine was still a bit skeptical about the going back to their room part of the deal, especially since she was still wearing her costume for _Don Juan_, but she followed the exterminators nonetheless.

They walked into their room and pointed Miss Daae to a chair. She sat down while Ray and Peter pulled up three other chairs. Egon, meanwhile, was searching through their "scientific" equipment. Peter looked at him curiously, "What are you doing Spengler?"

"We left our lie detector back in New York."

"Damn, it would have been very helpful right about now!"

Christine looked at them questioningly and asked, "Well, didn't you realize it was gone when you interrogated those other people?"

Egon uneasily replied, "Uh, well, I guess we just, um, didn't think to use it on the other people. The idea just now came to me…"

She raised an eyebrow, "Yeah. And why didn't you already have three chairs set up? Dr. Venkman and Dr. Stantz had to get them."

Peter cleared his throat and chuckled nervously, "Oh, that doesn't matter, let's just get on with the questions."

Ray said, "Yes, let's. Spengler, you record her answers. Venkman, watch her body language, see if you can catch whether she's lying or not."

Peter grinned, "Her body language? My pleasure." Christine grimaced, really wishing she had gotten to change dresses.

Egon looked over at Ray, frowning. "Why do you get to ask the questions?"

"Oh, come on Spengler, it doesn't matter. Let's just get this over with." The other two Ghost Busters nodded and Ray began the interrogation.

"Christine, have you talked to the Phantom of the Opera?" Asked Dr. Stantz.

Christine was determined to answer the questions she was asked, but at the same time give nothing away that Erik wouldn't have wanted her to tell his adversaries. She replied, "Yes."

"And what did you talk about?"

She smiled, "Politics."

"What else?"

"The stock market."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, you guys."

"Really? What did you say?"

"Erik thinks that you're not very smart, and that your uniforms look stupid."

"Erik?"

"That's the Phantom's name."

"A ghost has a name?"

"How many times must someone drill this in your heads, he's not a ghost!"

"How do you know this, Miss Daae?"

"He's solid."

"Some ghosts can take on solid forms. When you are near him, do you feel cold?"

"No."

Peter laughed quietly and asked, "Do you get a warm, fuzzy feeling?"

Christine looked at him like he was crazy and replied, rather unconvincingly, "…Not really."

Dr. Venkman was still smiling but he asked very seriously, "Christine, are you or are you not romantically involved with said phantom?"

She looked incredibly surprised; she had certainly not been expecting that question. After a moment she angrily replied, "What? Why do you need to know that?"

"I'm just a naturally curious person. Genetics, my darling. Yes or no?"

"Dr. Venkman, I'm not sure how I should answer that question. You know, I really have to go. I'll see you guys around." And she sprang up from her chair and ran out of the room.

Ray and Egon turned angrily to Peter, "Why did you have to ask that, Venkman?"

"Come on, I was _curious_! Besides, it could have meant something…"

Egon sighed, "Whatever. Come on, let's go see if we can't find her again and convince her to answer some more questions. Don't be so blunt next time, Peter, ask questions like that gently."

Dr. Venkman rolled his eyes, "Aye-aye, captain."


	27. The Persian, the Soprano, & the Pastrami

27. The Persian, the Soprano, and the Pastrami

Meanwhile, after she had walked out on the Ghost Busters, Christine ran into the grand entry hall to find that Nadir was sitting on one of the marble steps, eating a pastrami sandwich. She went up to him and the Persian looked up and said, "Hi."

She sat down next to him. "Hey Nadir."

"What brings you to my humble marble staircase today?" he said after taking a bite of sandwich.

Christine sighed deeply before answering, "I ran away from the Ghost Busters. They took me into their room and questioned me about Erik. I left when Dr. Venkman asked if Erik and I were 'romantically involved'. I really hope they don't find me and make me answer anymore questions, it was quite awkward. I made sure not to give anything of importance away, though."

Nadir stared at Christine with his eyes growing wide, not noticing as the pastrami slipped out of his sandwich and splatted on the floor. "They asked if you were romantically involved? What did you say?"

"I just told Peter that I didn't know how to answer that question. Then I left."

Nadir did his best to scoop up his pastrami while saying, "Well, I never thought that the Ghost Busters would interrogate you, or that they would ask you that. I guess that's Peter Venkman for you…" He put the pastrami back between his slices of bread and took a huge bite, chewing as he watched Christine answer.

"Yeah… hey, did you just put that back on your sandwich? It was on the floor!"

The Daroga shrugged and said, "I just saw the maid clean this floor half an hour ago. Nothing's cleaner then the Opera Populaire's floor, that's for sure." They sat in silence for a moment before Nadir finished his sandwich, cleared his throat, and asked "So, uh, are you romantically involved? Just asking."

Christine rolled her eyes, "I'm not even going to answer that, Nadir."

He laughed and said "I didn't think you would."

Just then they heard footsteps on the stairs behind them. Christine groaned, thinking it was going to be the Ghost Busters again, but when she and the Persian stood up and turned around they saw that it was Erik walking down the stairs, talking with Sweeney Todd. Neither the phantom nor the barber had noticed that Christine and Nadir were there, so when the Daroga exclaimed, "Erik! What are you doing here?" both of them looked up in surprise.

"Hello Nadir, Christine. I'm just showing Sweeney Todd around the Opera Populaire."

Nadir cocked his head to the side, confused. "Who?"

"Oh, I apologize; this is Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of the Fleet Street."

"What?" said Nadir, still bewildered.

"Come on, Nadir, do I have to explain his entire life story to you?"

The Persian nodded, "That would be nice."

**A/N: Now, for those of you who have not watched the movie Sweeney Todd, I, your wonderful author, am going to explain his entire life story to you as Erik would have explained it to Nadir. Those of you who have seen the movie, I apologize. I really do, but if you haven't seen Sweeney Todd you just wouldn't understand… because this isn't technically a crossover, I want to try to be courteous to the uninformed. If you're planning to watch the movie, this won't spoil the ending, but it'll spoil quite a bit. Stick with me, and you can skip this chapter if you wish.**


	28. A Summary of Mr Todd's Life

28. A Summary of Mr. Todd's Life For The Purpose of Clearing Things Up For Nadir and Those Who Haven't Seen the Movie.

Erik gestured for them to sit down so all four of them tool a seat on a different marble step as the Phantom began to speak. "15 years ago there was a barber named Benjamin Barker. He had a beautiful wife, Lucy, and a little girl, Johanna. There was a judge, Judge Turpin, who fell in love with Lucy. And so, one day when the family was out together, the Judge took Benjamin Barker away from his wife and child and had him arrested under false charges. Lucy was so distraught, she would sit in her room with Johanna every day, and the Judge would give her flowers and beg her to love him. One day the Beadle Bamford took Lucy to a masked ball at the Judge's house where Judge Turpin raped her. After that she poisoned herself with Arsenic. Judge Turpin adopted Johanna as his own daughter.

"15 years later the barber escaped from prison and returned to London with the help of a young sailor, Anthony Hope. By then he had taken on a new name, Sweeney Todd. Sweeny made his way back to his old shop, on Fleet Street, and went into Mrs. Lovett's pie shop which is directly under his barber shop. Mrs. Lovett tells him how her meat pies are revolting, the worst pies in London, in fact. When Todd asks her if she will rent out the room above her shop she explains to him what happened to Lucy years ago. When she recognizes him as Benjamin Barker he tells her how he is now Sweeney Todd and how he shall have his revenge on the judge. Mrs. Lovett takes him up to his shop and shows him that she kept his seven silver razors. He tells her how they are his friends and she tells him how she had 'always had a fondness for him'.

"Meanwhile, Anthony is walking past the Judge's house when he sees Johanna singing in her window. He falls madly in love with her and vows that he will steal her from the judge, not knowing that Todd is after the same goal.

"On Thursday Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett go to the market together to see Signor Adolfo Pirelli, an Italian barber with a street side shop. Pirelli's servant, Toby, was advertising _Pirelli's Miracle Elixir_, and Sweeney Todd claims that it is nothing but a fraud concocted of piss and ink. Pirelli appears and Sweeney Todd challenges him to a shaving contest. Todd wins and Pirelli gives him 5 pounds.

"Now we go back to Anthony, who was walking by the Judge's house when Johanna threw him a key out her window. He goes to the barber shop and tells Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett his plans to steal Johanna and asks them if he can hide her at the shop for a few hours while he is getting a coach. They agree and Anthony leaves, then Pirelli comes to the shop. Mrs. Lovett keeps Toby downstairs while Pirelli talks to Todd. Pirelli tries to blackmail Todd into half the barbershop's profits by using the fact that he recognizes Todd as Benjamin Barker. In defense, Sweeney hits Pirelli repeatedly on the head with an iron coffee pot, and when that fails to kill the Italian, he slits his throat and hides the body in his trunk.

"Meanwhile, Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford are walking together when Turpin tells the Beadle that he is going to marry Johanna to shield her from the world, but she seemed 'reluctant'. The Beadle suggests that he needs a shave and points him to Todd's shop. Sweeney begins to shave the Judge, thinking he is going to get his revenge, when suddenly Anthony bursts in screaming about how he talked to Johanna and made plans to run away together. The Judge storms out of the shop vowing to never come again. Todd, of course, is angry and sends Anthony away.

"Mrs. Lovett comes up to see what happened and Sweeney Todd has an epiphany. He realizes that everyone deserves to die and so decides to take up a new hobby of murdering people." (The worst of habits if you ask me, your wonderful author. Smoking may rot the lungs, drinking may destroy the liver, but killing corrupts the soul. Back to the life story then…) "They then go downstairs to the pie shop to determine what to do with the body. Mrs. Lovett has a brilliant idea and suggests that they put him in a pie. Yummy. It is then settled that Mr. Todd will kill the people that come to his shop, and Mrs. Lovett will turn them into meat pies.

"In other news, Judge Turpin finds Johanna preparing to run away and sends her to Fogg's Asylum.

"Sweeney Todd builds a handy-dandy new chair so that once he has slit a customer's throat he can pull a lever and the chair tips backward, sliding them down a shoot and into the bake house stories below. The plan is working well, but a crazy old homeless woman has noticed the smoke and awful smell coming from Mrs. Lovett's. With business going strong, Mrs. Lovett's pie shop has a grand opening, and the worst pies are now the _best_ pies in London. Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett, have a picnic and Mrs. Lovett informs him that she would like to get married and live by the sea, but Mr. Todd can think of nothing but the Judge. Killing the Judge, that is. Now he's getting even with the world by killing his customers so that they can be turned into delicious pies.

"And, well, that's how we got to where we are now. Umm… did I miss anything, Mr. Todd?"


	29. Puppy Tears

29. Puppy Tears

The three people sitting around Erik had listened to the story quietly, their eyes had glassed over and it looked as if they were in a trance, even the barber himself, who already knew the story much too well. But when Erik had stopped speaking the all looked up, blinking, and Sweeney Todd said "No, uh, no, you didn't miss anything. That was spot on."

Nadir's jaw had dropped open and he stared from barber to phantom and back again, amazed. It didn't take much to stun Nadir into speechlessness. "Wow" he finally said, "That's amazing, and slightly scary. How do you know all this, Erik?"

"Sweeney Todd told me all of it earlier today."

"You just met him today? Who would tell their entire life story to someone they just met?"

Erik glanced at Sweeney for a brief moment before saying, "We're best friends. Best friends tell each other everything!"

Christine looked at them curiously, but Nadir seemed hurt. "Best friend? But Erik, we're best friends!" His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly.

"Not anymore. I have other friends now. 4 of them, actually. Sweeney Todd is top on the list, then my new cat, Err…Mr. Snuffaluffagus, and then Christine. Well, at least I think we're friends, I'm not so sure." He chanced a look at Christine, who raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Nadir just shrugged, "Fine then. Be that way. See if I care." He crossed his arms across his chest disdainfully and looked pointedly the other way. Erik let him take a few deep breaths, and soon enough Nadir turned back and muttered, "Can we still…you know…hang out sometimes?"

The Phantom nodded his head respectfully, "Of course" he said.

All four were silent for a bit, still sitting on their own step. Finally Nadir spoke to Erik again, "I watched rehearsals for the opera today. They're going well."

"Call it by its name, Nadir" said Erik, frowning.

The Daroga scoffed, "Oh, of course. You named it _Don Juan Triumphant_. I can't help but wonder why, though, surely you yourself would be Don Juan _Not-So-Triumphant_." Nadir laughed at his own joke, but Erik growled and flipped the Persian off when Christine had her head turned. Nadir pouted, "You know, Erik, every moment we refuse to love each other another puppy cries another tear" he whimpered.

Erik just scoffed, but Sweeney Todd finally spoke up and sarcastically said, "Puppies? I eat puppies for breakfast!"

"Eww! That's not nice! Erik, this barber is creepy." The Persian moaned, still sounding pathetic.

Erik said, "Get over it Nadir, he is not"

But Christine's eyes looked worried and she quietly said, "He is kind of scary, Erik."

This time Erik turned to Sweeney and seriously said, "Hear that? You're scaring people, Todd. Maybe you should change your hair." Looking both disbelieving and angry, the barber said nothing, but he did kick Erik hard in the shin. "Ouch! Okay, okay, I didn't mean it. Keep your freaky hair the way it is."

Nadir pulled another pastrami sandwich out of a pocket in his coat and began to much on it, Sweeney Todd took one of his silver razors out of his pocket and begun to polish it with a small cloth, and Erik dug around in one of his pockets before pulling out his iPhone. Christine sat in silence and watched Erik, seeing as she had no pockets. Erik hit a few buttons and found the number he was looking for on speed dial, then put the phone to his ear. It rang twice before someone picked up and Erik said, "Hello? Ray's pizza? Yes, I'd like to order some pizzas for delivery. Yeah, I want 6 extra large pizzas with anchovies and lots of green peppers. 120 francs? No problem, yes, bring them to the Opera Populaire and ask for Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre. Thanks." He touched another button and took the phone away from his face, looking smug. Both Sweeney and Christine grinned and laughed, but Nadir stopped in mid-chew and frowned at Erik.

"I thought you were ordering us a pizza!" said the Daroga.

Erik sighed, "You don't need any pizza, Nadir, you're already stuffing your face with pastrami. What's on that thing, anyways?"

Nadir peeked under his top piece of bread before answering, "Uh…Pastrami, mustard, lettuce, and peaches."

"Ick! Peaches?" exclaimed Christine.

Nadir shrugged, "It's not bad, but I'd much rather have a deep dish meat lovers pizza." He said.

The barber made a face, "After all the experiences I've had with meat… I'm wondering whether I should become a vegetarian…"

Erik looked sympathetic, "You have a point, but as long as the meat was no where near Mrs. Lovett I would say you're okay."

Todd shook his head sadly, "No, it's too late for that; I've been scarred for life."

"So no bacon?" Wondered Nadir, his eyes growing wide at the words, 'Become a vegetarian'.

The barber looked surprised, "Give up bacon? No way, that's one meat man must never live with out."

Erik nodded, "Hear hear!" and the two high-fived.

Christine looked at the three men oddly, "It's just bacon, what's so wonderful about it?"

At this comment Nadir squeaked like a girl, Sweeney Todd dropped his razor and clapped both hands over his mouth, and Erik angrily exclaimed, "JUST BACON?! How dare you?!"

Christine looked scared, "Well…" but Erik continued ranting,

"Bacon is the very sustenance of life! Men cannot function without what joy bacon brings to our life!"

Todd lowered his hands and added, "Bacon and pretty women, you mean."

Erik acknowledged him with a nod of his head, "Ah, of course, we need women too, but of all foods in a man's life bacon is definitely the most important. Why, Christine, if you don't appreciate bacon then I might just have to give you up and find someone else to stalk."

She sighed, knowing that this was an empty threat, and said "Well… I guess I can see where you're coming from… fine. I take back what I said about bacon not being wonderful." Erik smiled, looking relieved, and Nadir, who had been clutching his heart in suspense, slouched back against the stair railing again, sighing happily. The touchy subject of bacon did not come up again.

About 25 minutes later some one came through the door. It was a pizza delivery guy, holding 6 huge pizza boxes and looking annoyed. "This place is so far away from the pizza shop, I don't know how they expect us to get here in 30 minutes or less…"

He continued walking, his eyes on the pizza boxes and not on the stairs, so when Erik said in a deep commanding voice, "Halt! Who goes there?" the pizza guy jumped about 2 feet in the air and dropped 3 of the 6 pizza boxes. He looked up and jumped another 2 feet when he saw the odd array of people sitting on the stairs. The phantom and the demon barber were glaring at him, Christine was just staring curiously, and Nadir was busy chewing on his pastrami and peach sandwich.

In a shaky voice the delivery boy said, "Uh… uh… uh… I'm Benjamin… I have to deliver these pizzas, if that's okay with you…"

Christine gave him a nod and Erik was about to wave him up the stairs when Sweeney Todd sharply said, "Wait, Benjamin who?"

The barber narrowed his eyes as the boy said, "Oh, err… Benjamin Barker. Uh, why?"

Sweeney Todd jumped angrily to his feet, whipping out his razor and pointing it at the delivery guy's throat, "I AM NOT A PIZZA DELIVERY GUY!"

Benjamin backed away from the barber, terrified, and another pizza box slid out of his arms. "Whoa, h-hey, take it easy man, th-there's gotta be more then one Benjamin Barker out there, I don't know why you're freaking out on me!" he said.

Todd slowly lowered his arm, his chest heaving as he folded his razor shut. He wasn't finished, though; he walked over to the delivery boy and began to ask a series of uncomfortable interrogative questions, which the boy stumbled through nervously. The three people on the stairs sighed, waiting impatiently for the barber to be satisfied. Erik put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands as he watched Christine play Tetras on his iPhone. Nadir busied himself with yet another pastrami sandwich he had pulled out of his pocket. Erik had actually taken a Sharpie marker and made a tally mark on the railing next to him for every sandwich Nadir ate. He wasn't sure if there should be four or five marks, he hadn't been paying close enough attention, but one thing he was sure of was that Nadir's pocket must be a lot deeper then it appeared.

Finally the barber walked back over to the stairs, looking morally fulfilled. He sat down on the step next to Erik. "I guess it was just a coincidence…" He said, noticing the Phantom glaring at him.

Benjamin gathered up the pizza boxes he had dropped, checking to make sure they had not sustained any serious damage before he went up to the first marble step. "Okay, I gotta deliver these pizzas now, I really do. Uh, do you know where Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre's office is?"

"Yeah, it's just up these stairs, down that hallway, and you'll take the second left through a big mahogany door. There'll be a little gold sign that says 'manager'." Erik directed him, grinning.

The delivery boy nodded, "Thank you, sir" and hurried out of the entry hall.

"Suckers" Erik exclaimed as soon as Benjamin was out of earshot.

"Who's a sucker?" Asked Nadir.

Erik chortled as he replied, "All three of them, both of the managers and that pansy delivery boy. You know, I wonder if Andre is over that concussion I gave him…?"

Christine shook her head, "No, I talked to the managers just a few days ago and Andre was screaming something to the extent of, 'You gandered, yes, sir, you gandered! You GANDERED, GANDERED, GANDERED, GANDERED! …SKWAK!' It was incredibly weird." She said, and cleared her throat in embarrassment.

Sweeney Todd made a face and muttered, "Creepy."

Nadir hadn't been paying attention; he was chewing what must have been his sixth pastrami sandwich. Erik uncapped his Sharpie and made another tally mark, then took out his iPhone and checked the time. "That Benjamin should be back in around now, it would think."

In 5 minutes or so they did indeed hear a door open down one of the hallways, and they all automatically got up and stood, each one step below the other, against the marble railing. Erik was closest to the top, next to him was Sweeney, then Nadir, then Christine. They looked up as the pizza delivery boy appeared. They all attempted to look innocent, something which came very naturally to Christine, and which Nadir had mastered over the years. Erik and Sweeney Todd, however, had extreme difficulty conveying an expression of innocence. It probably didn't matter, though, Benjamin appeared looking harried and distracted and would have trotted right past the four-some if Erik had not asked, "Something wrong?"

Benjamin stopped and stood in front of the Phantom. "Well, The managers (actually, it was only Firmin, Andre was playing checkers with himself- and losing, mind you) told me that they never ordered any pizzas. I said 'no, we got a call from here around 45 minutes ago, someone ordered 6 extra large pizzas with anchovies and green peppers.' Firmin said that they never did any such thing and that it must have been that goddamn Phantom of the Opera. I got them to pay me the 120 francs eventually, though. I hate when deliveries go like that, I almost never get a tip. Say, you don't happen to know this Phantom of the Opera guy, do you?"

Erik thought for a moment before answering, "You know, I've heard the guy's name a lot around here, but I've never actually met him. I hear that he's causing some big problems around here, the managers called in these 3 idiot exterminators called the Ghost Busters to try and get rid of him" he told the pizza guy with conviction.

Benjamin shrugged, and walked out the door saying "I gotta go, I've been gone way to long. My boss is gonna have a fit…"

Still standing against the rail, the four-some glanced at each other, waiting for one of them to say something. Nadir began to rummage in his pocket, franticly digging with his hand to no avail. He had eaten all of his sandwiches, so he turned to Erik, who had started to speak.

"That didn't go exactly the way I was expecting it to… thanks to Sweeney going all mental on us."

The barber crossed his arms against his chest, glowering. "Hey, you heard him! I'm not a pizza delivery boy" he said defensively. The other three rolled their eyes.

After a bit more petty conversation the Persian checked his watch and said, "Wow, look at the time. I should get out of here, I don't want to be late for…err…this thing I've got…"

Erik smirked, "Dinner with your mother?"

"No!"

"Grandmother?"

"No."

"Auntie Marge?"

"God, dammit Erik, you know me two well" said the Persian sarcastically.

"You may say that with laughter in your voice, Daroga, but we all know it's true."

"I'm not going to attempt to change your mind, Erik. It was nice seeing you again. Christine, it was a pleasure talking to you as well. Good luck with the Ghost Busters, and with _Don Juan_."

She smiled, "You'll come?"

"I will. And you, Mr. Todd, it was quite an experience meeting you."

"The same to you, Nadir. How about you come in for a shave, when you've got the chance?"

"Uh…"

"Please, I assure that you will leave with your life. And the closest shave you shall ever know, of course!" The barber said, acting quite charming. Nadir nodded, giving Sweeney a small smile, and walked down the stairs and out the door, waving over his shoulder.

When the Persian was gone Erik turned to Sweeney Todd and said, "Well, Mr. Todd, since it's sort of late, why don't you come to my house/cave tonight and then go back to Mrs. Lovett's in the morning?"

"That sounds pretty good, actually. I've wanted to see the lair down in the basement that you live in. Can I use your phone to call Mrs. Lovett, though? I don't want her to start to worry and then send out search parties like the one time when I got locked in the skunk cage at the zoo and she freaked out when I wasn't home in the morning. God that was awful… You know how women are, though."

"Yeah. Here you go" said Erik, handing the barber his iPhone.

Todd dialed the number and walked a few feet away from the other two. She picked up after a few rings, "_Hello?"_

"Mrs. Lovett?"

"_Oh my gosh! Mr. Todd! Where on earth have you been?_"

Sweeney winced heavily and replied, "At the Opera Populaire, Mrs. Lovett, like I said I would be."

"_Why on earth didn't you come home this afternoon? I needed you! I had to shoot a cross dresser and an alligator just to feed the dinner rush, and you know how I hate having to use that gun_!"

"An Alligator? You know what, never mind. Look, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"_Really? Like how? A romantic date? Another picnic? Or tonight we coul_-"

He hastily cut her off, "Uh, no, I'm gonna have to talk to you another time about that… I'm going to stay at the opera house tonight, and I'll be back early in the morning."

"_Aww. You're sure?_"

"Yes, Mrs. Lovett, I'm sure."

"_Fine. But come back early!_"

"Okay. Good bye."

"_Good bye, Mr. T._"

The barber hung up the phone, tilting his head back to the high ceiling and letting out a deep sigh. Erik stepped forward and took his iPhone from Sweeney. Christine gave Todd a weird look and said, "You two certainly have an odd relationship…"

Sweeney turned around and nodded, "Yeah…" Erik began to walk down the stairs, gesturing for Sweeney Todd to follow him.

The pair walked off through a hallway with the Phantom asking Sweeney, "So do you play chess?"

"I enjoy it, and I'm not too bad if I do say so myself" replied the barber.

Christine watched them as they walked off, noticing that she was alone. A worried crease formed on her pale forehead as she glanced around the entry hall, staring out the windows at the pitch black outside, pondering what she should do. Finally she broke down and sprinted after Erik and Sweeney Todd, calling, "Erik! Erik! Let me come too!"


	30. An Ode to Smiling Pancakes

A Short Ode to Smiling Pancakes

The next morning Sweeney Todd woke up in the velvet lined swan bed which he had been forced to sleep in, due to the fact that Erik failed to possess a non-animal shaped guest bed. He walked out of the bed room, grumbling, to find Erik sitting at his organ, staring blankly at the keys. "What are you doing?" the barber asked.

Erik looked up, startled. "Good morning to you, too. I happen to be staring blankly at my organ, if you can't already see that."

"Whatever. Do you have anything to eat for breakfast?" asked the barber, looking around the lair to see if there was a hidden kitchen anywhere.

"For you? No. I do, however, have breakfast for my kitty cat and my squid. Follow me." the Phantom told him, getting up and walking behind a curtain with the barber trailing behind him. They were indeed in a secret kitchen! Erik had to deactivate several alarms before he was able to walk over to the refrigerator without being blasted by his own laser security system. He was very protective over his kitchen, not to mention that the motion sensors kept out the rats. Erik opened the refrigerator door and Sweeney peered over his shoulder to see that half the fridge was filled with fillet minion, and the other half was filled with Stephen King novels.

"You eat books? Now I know it's an excellent source of fiber, but vegetables are also a very important part of your diet. You don't have to refrigerate books either, although I've heard that magazines can spoil after 7 weeks. And that raw steak could give you tape worms, or heart worms, or earth worms" said the barber.

Erik shook his head, "No, this stuff is for my pets. Only the finest steak for my precious kitty, Apollo. And my squid will only eat Stephen King anymore. He used to take any author, but he's gotten so picky." Sweeney Todd said nothing. He watched as Erik put a small lump of steak on a crystal plate and then gathered 5 King books into his arms. He walked out of the kitchen, turning the alarms back on once the barber was out of the way.

They went down to the water where Erika actually sat down on the shore and tossed the books down next to him. Sweeney Todd stood back a few feet and watched as Erik gently put the plate of meat on the ground and softly called, "Apollo, breakfast time. Come here, kitty cat. Apollo?"

The cat appeared after a moment from a small dark space under a cabinet, the most logical place in the world for a cat to be hiding. Apollo slithered out into the open, swishing his tail jauntily as he trotted over to Erik. He crouched down and began to consume the steak with small but ravenous bites as Erik scratched the cat gently behind the ears. "Good kitty. Yes, there's my sweet little Apollo" he murmured, smiling down at the cat's slim form. Although the Phantom could live without people bugging him, Erik had a soft spot for cats.

"You talk to that cat like it's a child" said the barber.

Erik looked up at Sweeney Todd, momentarily pausing stroking Apollo's head. "I like cats much better then children. Besides, you talk to your razors like that and they're inanimate pieces of metal."

Sweeney did not reply directly to Erik, but he laid a hand gently on the razor in his pocket and whispered, "It's okay, he didn't mean it."

Erik scoffed, going back to stroking his cat. "You should get back to Fleet Street."

"You're right. I should."

"But first I must watch your expression when you see my giant squid."

"Giant squid? It doesn't have a name?"

"No, not yet. I've been thinking of calling it Tim, but it just doesn't seem to fit." And so the Phantom began to toss King books in the lake, keeping his expression blank and un-amused as a huge gray-ish tentacle surfaced and snatched up the book _Four Past Midnight_. The barber had jumped when the squid had first appeared, but he quickly composed himself enough to watch the squid devour the rest of the books without saying anything.

When the water had settled down and the surface of the lake was a sheet of glass once more, Sweeney Todd said, "Well, that's quite a pet you've got there, Erik."

"Yup. I feed him everyday so that he doesn't get cranky and try to take a bite out of Apollo or myself. He has eaten a pizza delivery man once before, which confirms that he's not a vegetarian. I say 'he' but I'm really not sure weather it's a male or not, but I'm not about to try and check" Erik told him, scratching Apollo who had finished his steak and climbed into the Phantom's lap. The cat stared at Sweeney out of his partially narrowed golden eyes, giving the barber a look which clearly said, "He's mine. He is mine and you will never have him and I am incredibly proud of that fact."

Todd raised his eyebrows at the cat, flashing him a look that said, "Good for you, but I don't particularly want to have him. We're just friends" before telling Erik, "I should get going."

Erik nodded, getting up off the ground and sending Apollo toppling off his lap. The kitty crouched by the Phantom's feet, sending both men disgruntled glares and lashing his tail back and forth. "You're right. It was great meeting you and hanging out with you. I'll see you again sometime, fairly soon if you come to watch _Don Juan_."

"Yeah. Well, Goodbye."

"Goodbye. Hey, Apollo, say goodbye."

The barber rolled his eyes as the cat obeyed, prancing over to him and rearing up on him. Placing his front his paws on his leg and purring. Sweeney scratched the cat's head and Apollo began to knead, but his claws were so long that they tore through Sweeney Todd's pants and scratched him. "Ouch!" the barber exclaimed, gently kicking the cat away.

"Sorry" Erik said, "he was trying to be nice."

"Key word: trying. I gotta go. Bye Erik, bye demon cat. See ya."

And so Sweeney Todd left Erik's lair, left the Opera Populaire, and found himself walking back down Paris's alleys toward Fleet Street, watching the scenery get grayer. Eventually he got to Mrs. Lovett's shop and walked right past the door into the Bell yard, heading up the wooden stairs to his shop. Sweeney Todd slammed the door behind him, collapsing into the chair and relaxing. He sat and thought for a moment before he heard footsteps clunking up the stairs. Most likely Mrs. Lovett, having seen him walk past the shop. Indeed just a second later Mrs. Lovett came through the door, carrying a tray of breakfast. Sweeney raised his eyes to her, still slumped back in his barber's chair.

"Mr. Todd! You're finally back. You look starving, and tired, too. Here, I brought you some breakfast!" said Mrs. Lovett, setting the tray on his lap.

He sat up and looked down at the plate of food, grimacing. "You really don't expect me to eat this, do you?" The barber asked skeptically. On the plate was a chocolate chip pancake with a smiley face made out of whipped cream. Maraschino cherry for the nose, you know, like the ones you get at Denny's.

Mrs. Lovett looked down at it, "Dammit, this is Toby's breakfast!"

Meanwhile, down in Mrs. Lovett's sitting room, Toby was curled up on the couch poking at a plate of sausage and eggs with a fork, whimpering. "Aww… today was supposed to be smiley face pancake day! Mrs. Lovett promised!"

**A/N: Don't you hate it when you have a long, wonderful chapter name, fanfiction won't let you put it all? That didn't happen for this chapter, but it did a couple of chapters back…no big deal, just forgot to mention it earlier…although, if it's no big deal…why mention it? Just because, I suppose. I apologize. I also wanted to mention that I have nothing against Stephen King! I adore him! One of my all time favorite authors. Infact, I would imagine it quite the compliment if I was Uncle Stevie that Erik's squid only ate my works. That right there is how you know you've arrived.**

**One last thing I think we all have come to expect…: Review please! Haha. I happen to like reviews even more then cream filled red velvet cupcakes. More then a warm gooey snickerdoodle cookie covered in rainbow sprinkles! More then German chocolate chunk brownies! So tell me what you think of the story, or I'll be forced to cover you in more warm sugary analogies.**


	31. A Different Fight in the Graveyard

A Different Sort of Fight in the

Graveyard

A day or two after the meeting on the marble stair case with the Phantom, the barber, the Persian, and of course the pizza delivery boy, Christine was sitting on her bed in the ballet dormitories. She was thinking about the up-coming performance of _Don Juan_ and she couldn't help but get the feeling that it wasn't going to go as expected. She herself was trying to keep her mind clear of expectations, knowing Erik, but she knew that the managers had a precise picture on how they would prefer the Phantom's opera played out. There was just a sort of nagging sensation at the depth of her mind that assured her that it wouldn't go as smoothly as the error-free _Tosca_.

When she had finished musing over _Don Juan_, which was only 4 days away, Christine scooted over to sit next to the window. She stared out, lost in thought, and saw that it had begun to snow. She suddenly had a flashback of her father playing his violin at Christmas time while she sat listening by the fireplace, keeping warm during the snowy winter moths of Sweden. The flashback ended quickly, and back in the present Christine was overcome with grief. She missed her father so much, and thought that now would be as good a time as ever to visit the graveyard and lay some flowers on Gustave Daae's memorial. Even though it was sub-zero outside, snowing like hell, (wait, it doesn't snow in hell…all the snow would melt anyways…) she owned absolutely no clothing suitable for winter, and the flowers would probably freeze to the ground or blow away, Christine knew that it was the thought that counts. Perhaps her father's spirit would come down from heaven and sing a duet reprisal of "Angel of Music" with her. (Sounds a bit far fetched, but I guess she can hope.)

So she made up her mind to take a carriage to the graveyard, and after changing into a black dress and wrapping her shoulders in a not so substantial cloak the brunette pranced out of the empty ballet dormitories and down to the opera house's stables. As you know, Raoul was supposed to be keeping watch outside her door so that he could ride off to save her from the big-bad phantom and be all heroic on his gallant white horse without its saddle. But, as you also know, this is my story, and Raoul is dead, so he doesn't get the chance to be all dashing. You may think that Jeoffery could be heroic and attempt to save Christine, but he had volunteered to polish spoons in the Opera Populaire's kitchen. Besides, the soprano probably wouldn't have accepted his help anyway. No matter, she continued on alone.

Entering the stables, Christine saw a man latching up some black Friesian horses to a carriage. She walked over to him and handed him some coins. "Where to, miss?" He asked amicably.

She replied, "The cemetery. My father's grave, please." He knew what she meant and nodded to her, continuing to get the horses ready while Christine picked out a bouquet of red roses to lay on the grave. When the carriage was ready to go, Christine climbed into the back seat and the man clambered onto the driver's seat, huffing and puffing as he fumbled with the reigns. They headed out, the horses hooves splashing through the puddles, sending leaves swirling across the ground. Christine clutched the bundle of roses on her lap and paid no attention to the driver. He is someone that we (as readers) should pay attention to, though. Sorry to disappoint, but he is not the Phantom of the Opera. Erik is busy playing with his cat or growling at ballet rats or something, so we get this guy. He is a middle aged man with a very bushy red mustache named Albert. (The man is Albert, not the mustache.) Albert shall drive Christine to the graveyard dutifully and then become irrelevant to the rest of the story. Maybe we shouldn't pay much attention to him. Never mind.

Anyway, in a matter of 10 minutes or so Christine was dropped off at the cemetery and Albert went off to get a coffee and leave her to her mourning. She walked through the graves quietly, leaving light footprints in the newly fallen snow. She wove her way through the statues, making her way to her father's memorial as cold, powdery flakes swirled around her. Then music began to play and, what do you know, it's time for someone to burst into song! This is the way musicals work, you know, when enough emotion wells up in someone and words are simply not enough, they begin to sing. The easiest way to predict these moments is when music begins to play from nowhere in particular, as we have noticed happening through out this story. So Christine begins to sing to herself and to her father.

_You were once _

_My one companion_

_You were all that mattered_

_You were once_

_A friend and father_

_Then my world was shattered_

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Wishing you were somehow near_

_Sometimes it seemed _

_If I just dreamed_

_Somehow you would be here_

_Wishing I could hear your voice again_

_Knowing that I never would_

_Dreaming of you_

_Won't help me to do _

_All that you dreamed I could_

She walked a bit slower, going through different parts of the grave yard to give herself time to sing the entire song. Fog had actually begun to swirl across the frozen ground, or maybe someone had just put some dry ice in a bowl of water to make the scene more mysterious and emotional. Whatever it was, Christine paid no attention. She had even forgotten how cold she was as she gazed at the marble angels, frost covering their heads and wings. It was really quite peaceful in the empty graveyard, nothing moving but the falling snow. The music continued:

_Passing bells and sculpted angels_

_Cold and monumental _

_Seem for you _

_The wrong companions _

_You were warm and gentle_

_Too many years_

_Fighting back tears_

_Why can't the past just die?_

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Knowing we must say goodbye_

_Try to forgive_

_Teach me to live_

_Give my the strength to try _

_No more memories_

_No more silent tears_

_No more gazing across _

_The wasted years_

She sat on the steps leading up to Gustave Daae's memorial, which was actually rather large for a violinist. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been a_ famous_ violinist. Or they could have just had some marble to spare. Christine looked up at the grave, tears sparkling in her eyes, as the song ended.

_Help me say _

_Goodbye_

_Help me say _

_Goodbye_

The snow had stopped falling so heavily, and Christine gazed down at the red roses clutched in her trembling hands. Different music was playing now, and she looked up at the grave as another beautiful voice sang to her.

_Wandering Child_

_So lost, so helpless_

_Yearning for my guidance_

Christine was full of surprise and wonder, was it an angel? Was it her father? Either way, the voice was so beautiful that she sang back to it, asking:

_Angel or father_

_Friend or phantom_

_Who is it there staring?_

It replied:

_Have you forgotten your angel?_

That filled her with hope and amazement; it must be the angel of music! He had not left her after all! So they sang together, a beautiful duet, pleading with each other, as if each had felt abandoned by the other. Christine sang:

_Angel, oh, speak_

_What endless longing_

_Echo in this whisper_

_Wildly my mind beats against you_

_Yet the soul obeys_

_Angel of Music, I denied you_

_Turning from true beauty_

_Angle of Music, my protector_

_Come to me, strange angel_

And at the same time the voice sang with her:

_Too long you've wandered in winter_

_Far from my fathering gaze_

_You resist_

_Yet your soul obeys_

_Angel of Music, you denied me_

_Turning from true beauty_

_Angel of Music, do not shun me_

_Come to your strange angel_

As the music ended the angel continued in a deeper, commanding voice, singing:

_I am your Angel of Music_

_Come to me Angel of Music_

Christine was jolted back to reality, not by Raoul riding up on his white steed, but by a stroke of realization. She knew that line, she had heard it before. Erik had sung that to her the very first time he pulled her through the mirror. So this angel must not be her father… it must be…

Suddenly, unexpectedly, some one jumped down from the roof of her father's grave. Here is the thing; the man that landed on the ground in front of Christine is not Erik. When he was in the air his cape had billowed out behind him, and it was in the shape of a pair of bat wings. He had a black mask covering all of his head except his mouth, and on the top of it were little pointy black bat ears. His black suit of armor looked like something the military would wear to battle in the year 2020, as it seamed to be made of plates of Kevlar and titanium. On his chest was a faint black emblem, a bat. Indeed, you have guessed it. He's the Christian Bale Batman, as seen in _Batman Begins _and _The Dark Knight_. I don't think this character needs much more explaining, everyone knows what Batman looks like, eh?

Christine gave a little shriek and fell backward in surprise. Her eyes grew wide with shock as she stammered, "Wait, you're not my father! You're not even Erik."

He looked down at Christine, studying her. In his deep, grating, commanding super hero voice he replied "You're right. I am Batman."

"Batman? Wow. I could have sworn that that was Erik's voice singing." Christine said, getting over her initial fear and acting confused.

"I'm not sure about the singing, the only thing I'm doing here is running from my arch enemy." Said Batman.

Christine began to ask "Who's your arch ene-" but she didn't get a chance to finish the question. Someone had come through the cemetery's entrance and was walking toward them, his footsteps crunching in the snow. It was the Joker. The Heath Ledger Joker, of course, from _The Dark Knight_. He wore a purple suit, which is difficult to pull off without looking stupid. He certainly didn't look stupid, more like creepy. That, though, was mostly due to his face, which was covered in terrifying makeup. Eyes surrounded by black with the rest of his face chalk white. He had scars on either side of his mouth which were smeared with red, giving him a permanent smile. His greasy dark blonde hair was highlighted with green. The whole effect was, as I said, creepy.

He grinned and then, in reply to Christine's question, said "The Joker. That's who." And then he laughed. It wasn't one of those unmerciful, sinister laughs that villains these days were so good at; it was as if he actually found the situation funny. Christine shivered, not because of the cold, but because the Joker had a naturally unsettling laugh none the less.

Batman jumped in surprise when he saw the Joker and gave an uncharacteristic (not to mention un-manly) "Eep!" He cleared his throat in embarrassment before trying again. "The Joker!" he said, much deeper this time.

Joker kept laughing, "Yeah, I just said that. Well, well, well. It's the Batman. I've finally caught you! And in a cemetery, no less! How deliciously ironic. You're done for this time!" he said, reaching a hand into a pocket of his purple coat.

Batman replied, "No way, Joker, you'll never win!" and he put a hand on his belt.

Christine took this as a cue to get out of the way, seeing as they both seemed to have forgotten that she was there. She darted off of the steps and stood by a statue of a winged horse, pressing her back up against it and trying to stay out of the way. It wasn't a moment to soon, either; both Batman and the Joker pulled revolvers out of their pockets and aimed at each other. That's right, in my story you get a gun fight instead of a sword fight. Modernization, people, it's all around us. The two adversaries began to shoot lead at each other, filling the cemetery with loud bangs. Christine scooted behind the statue, putting it in-between her and the gun fire. No one seemed to be winning; the Batman was simply staying in one place and not diverting energy into dodging bullets, trusting his bat suit to repel them. It hadn't failed him yet. The Joker, however, did not wear a Kevlar vest or a 300,000 dollar military uniform; he went the old fashioned way and dodged the bullets. Luckily, he was incredibly good at this. He danced around the bullets as he tried to take aim at a spot on Batman that was not covered in armor. The bullets never came close to hitting the Joker, he could avoid them with a skill that could only come with many years of being shot at (and not wearing a Kevlar vest).

The Joker ran out of ammo first, and instead of hunting for another gun he unsheathed a knife and lunged at the Batman. Batman dropped his gun in surprise and aimed a punch at the Joker's shoulder, who brushed off the hit and attempted to tackle the masked superhero. (Oh look, you also get a fist fight! Two for the price of one!)

Batman took off running around the graveyard and the clown bolted after him. Not wearing a suit of armor came in handy for the Joker now, he gained on the Batman fast. Christine watched with wide eyes. She was done fearing for her life, now she was just bewildered; she had pretty much no idea what was going on. The Joker caught Batman's cape from behind, which sent them both toppling onto the ground where they kicked and punched at each other some more. Soon the Joker struggled free, and this time he ran from the bat, who had jumped up and chased him. They wove through the graves, slipping occasionally on patches of ice. Batman pulled his grappling gun and hooked the Joker around the ankles, sending him to the ground where they rolled around in the snow once more, tearing at each other. The flying fists gave the clown a bloody nose and the Batman a torn lip, but they continued to kick and snarl and attempt to break bones. Christine thought that this probably wasn't the type of fight either of them were good at. Batman could barely move in his suit and the Joker was not a trained ninja. This could probably go on for a while longer without either of them sustaining major injuries.

Suddenly they froze in mid-action with the Batman clutching the collar of the Joker's shirt; they had heard the sound of horse hooves clomping up the road through the snow. They both watched as a man on a striking black horse rode up to the open iron gates of the cemetery. To Christine's great surprise it was the Phantom of the Opera. "Erik!" She exclaimed.

He looked up and saw her, yet he overlooked the man in a bat suit and the one in clown makeup. They must have been behind a gravestone or something. "Christine! Rats, I'm late. I missed the duet, didn't I?" he asked. Christine just nodded solemnly, deciding not to enquire whether she had heard his voice singing or not.

Meanwhile, Batman and the Joker were watching Erik intently. They had momentarily forgotten their rivalry as Batman turned to his arch-enemy and inquisitively said, "He's wearing a mask on one side of his face. Hey, maybe he's Two-Face! He could just be hiding his identity, trying to catch me off guard. What do you think, Joker?"

The Joker rolled his eyes at the Batman's lack of cleverness and all together common sense. Obviously the non-masked side of the guy on the horse looked nothing at all like Harvey Dent. But the Joker humored the Batman (ha-ha, humored! And he's the Joker! It's a pun! Get it?... Oh, never mind….) and said, "Uh-huh. Sure. What ever you want, batty boy."

Batman all but ignored him, shifting his position so that he was crouching on his feet, ready to spring into action. He seemed quite convinced that he had the chance to comprehend his other arch enemy. "That's gotta be Two-Face. I'm gonna get him, now, while he's unaware."

Erik had heard another voice though, which had made him suspicious. So when Batman sprung up from behind a headstone and exclaimed, in his scary deep voice, "Two-Face! I'll get you, Dent!" Erik automatically spurred his horse into a gallop, uttering an "Ack!" when he noticed Batman chasing him. They ran out of the cemetery and onto the slushy road, Erik's horse Caesar covering more ground then a man in a bat suit. Even though Erik was 20 feet ahead of him, Batman had a grappling gun, and you never know whether he's got the Batmobile parked behind a tree or something…

Christine stepped away from the statue she had been cowering behind and tried to get a better look down the road, watching as Erik disappeared with Batman hot on his tail. The Joker stood up, brushing snow off of his pants, and said "Ha! Looks like the bat will be kept busy for a while. You would think he would have to be a bit smarter to succeed in his line of work. I wonder how long he'll chase after that horse." He wiped a trickle of blood off his face and crossed his arms, laughing softly to himself. Because he was still looking out at the empty road, the Joker's back was turned on Christine.

Staring at the back of his head, the soprano suddenly realized that she was alone in a graveyard with an armed lunatic who wore clown makeup. The cemetery was far enough away from the rest of society that no one would here you scream, and her carriage and driver had left for coffee. Christine realized that this wasn't the best situation she had found herself in, and yet she was too curios about what had happened to fear for her life. She took a deep breath and in a trembling voice she asked the Joker, "Excuse me, sir, please. I can't help but wonder who exactly you guys are."

He turned around suddenly, looking surprised to see her standing there looking frightened. He grinned, though, which Christine found quite intimidating. The Joker slowly took a few steps closer to her, saying calmly, "You. I completely forgot about you, sweetie. For your information, that buffoon in the black suit was Batman. He's the caped crusader of Gotham City, their worshiped super hero. I am the Joker, his arch enemy. Basically I'm Gotham's bad guy. And… you are?"

She gulped, "Christine."

"Well, well, Christine, I have another question for you" he said, noticing the look of fear creeping over her face, "Why so serious?"

Her forehead creased in confusion, "You're scaring me."

"Yes, I tend to do that to people." The Joker said, advancing on her slowly. He gestured to the smile carved into his face and asked, "Hey, do you wanna know how I got these scars?" He looked down for a moment at a small knife he was holding, turning it around in his fingers.

"W-Wha-?" Stammered Christine. Once more she was interrupted by the heavy clattering of horse hooves on the road, and both her and the Joker spun around suddenly to watch someone ride up to them on a white stallion. The Joker dropped his knife in surprise, and it landed on the snow next to his feet. The man on the horse was none other then our dear Jeoffery, wearing a huge grin. He nudged the horse forward, stopping almost directly in front of Christine. He didn't notice the Joker, who had to jump out of the way to avoid the Vicomte's horse.

"Oh, Christine! I'm so glad I've found you here! I finished polishing the spoons and I wanted to come find you. I ran into this guy in a weird black bat suit who told me that you were at the cemetery! I wasn't sure weather or not to trust him, but you're here so that means he was right!" The patron said, bouncing happily in the horses' stirrups.

The Joker raised a skeptical eyebrow and cleared his throat, causing Jeoffery to take his attention away from Christine and look confused. "Hey, who's the clown?" He asked, staring down at the Joker from his position atop his horse.

"The Joker" replied the villain, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jeoffery's jaw dropped to the ground, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You mean the actual Joker? Like from the Batman movies, and the comics? You've got to be joking!"

Christine rolled her eyes, "Really bad pun, Jeoffery."

"I get that all the time, actually." The Joker said regrettably.

Jeoffery ignored them, he hadn't even noticed the pun he had made. He just turned back to Christine and smiled foolishly at her. "What are you doing here, anyways?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing, really. Hey, uh, Jeoffery? The carriage I came down in here seems to have disappeared. I hate to ask, I really do hate to ask, but could I ride back with you?" she asked, wincing at what she had to do to push the subject away from what had taken place in the graveyard. She thought that Jeoffery probably couldn't handle it, and she actually did need a ride back to the Opera Populaire. All three of them had begun to notice how cold it was.

Jeoffery grinned and nodded, looking like a human bobble head doll. "Of course you can ride back with me! I would be thrilled!"

She forced a smile and allowed him to help her onto the horse. Christine glanced down at the Joker. "Where are you going to go?" she asked.

He seemed surprised to see her asking, and after thinking a bit he replied, "I'll follow the bat, I guess. See if I can't convince him to go back to Gotham city. I have no idea how he found this place."

Jeoffery said, "That was Batman? Wow! Well, me and Christine will be headed that way, I would offer to give you a ride but there's no room on the horse."

The Joker just glared at him with an expression that clearly said, 'I don't know how stupid you are, but I just can't believe you would offer such a thing.' Out loud he replied, "I'm just gonna walk."

Jeoffery and Christine nodded and the patron kicked his horse into a gallop, yelling "Hiya! MUSH!" way too loud and sounding like an idiot. Christine winced again, wondering weather she should have found another way to change the subject and walked back to the opera house with the Joker. At least the Joker was smarter then a Canadian doorknob, which could not be said for the Vicomte. But she was already on the horse, so she did her best to grin and bear it as the white horse raced back to the Populaire. Even it wanted to get rid of Jeoffery as quickly as possible.

The Joker, still standing in the graveyard with snow pilling up around his ankles, scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, watching the horse trot down the road. He waited for about 5 minutes before picking up the knife he had dropped and starting off down the gravel road, sort of wishing that he owned an awesome made-for-the-army-but-too-cool-to-be-used superhero vehicle like the bat did, but then again, if he was anything it was most certainly not a copy cat. So the Joker walked back to the opera house and as he walked, he laughed.

**A/N: I really rather like this part :)**

**I just found the function on fanfiction where you can see your story's traffic! How **_**fascinating**_**! I mean really it is. Perhaps there are more readers then I thought? I know that every time I read something, even if I don't like it, I don't always review. Some sort of odd idea that they don't **_**really **_**make a difference, and the author will surely live. Besides, all I have to say would sound lame… right? That's how it goes for me. But I've tried to reverse that psychology, now that I am starting to realize how true the phrase "reviews = love" is. So if you're reading, hopefully you're reviewing as well!**

**I do apologize, I don't want to be soap-boxing. I just wonder if your sentiments are the same as mine. **

**I also apologize for some of the quality of writing, now that I'm reading back and realizing that this indeed was a bit ago and I have indeed improved in the year or two since these chapters… I mean, it's not that bad, you know? But I am much improved now, and am looking forward to writing the ending of this and then doing some hard core editing when it's all over with. I've taken quite the sabbatical, but my love for this story has never faltered.**

**Sorry if my authors notes get long, but there you are. I wanna say what I wanna say, hope that's alright. And I hope that you are all enjoying this story as much as I am! Much love, friendly friends.**


	32. We Have All Been Concussed

**32. We Have All Been Concussed**

Jeoffery was sitting on a small wooden stool in the Opera Populaire's kitchen. He was polishing the forks, since he had finished with all of the spoons. As he was working on one fork with a small rag he was suddenly struck with an amazing idea. It wasn't a stupid idea like starting a fop club; it was a genuinely good idea. He felt so wonderful; he could just feel the light bulb shinning above his head. He sprang up off of his stool, forks clattering to the floor. He had to go find the managers.

Minutes later Jeoffery and Andre and Firmin were walking briskly through the maze that was the back stage of the Opera Populaire. There was a huge crowd following them, looking at the patron with expectant faces. Andre was walking beside Firmin and clutching an oak boat oar in his left hand, using it as a cane. There was a floppy canvas boater's hat on his head and his expression was set in determination. Firmin had explained to Jeoffery when the Patron had run into their office requesting that he tell them a brilliant idea, that today Andre thought he was Indiana Jones. Jeoffery had smiled and told Andre how much he liked his hat.

So now they were walking (Firmin had told them that walking looked good, it made it seem like the plot was moving forward) and more then 100 were following them. Music had begun to play, the _We Have All Been Blind_ music, which meant that it was time for Jeoffery to sing. (As the author, I cringe at the thought.) Before he sang Jeoffery said, "Alright, here's my brilliant idea!" and then took over the lines that Raoul should have been singing, had he been there. _"We have all been blind, and yet the answer is staring us in the face. This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend." _

Firmin looked eagerly at the patron, "_We're listening"_

Andre took one glance at Jeoffery and raised his wooden oar over his head, bringing it down on the Vicomte's head with a sharp crack.

Jeoffery stumbled back and fell on his butt, clutching his head and yowling, "Oh, OW! My God that HURT! Ouch! Ohh…"

Andre looked back at him and gave a sharp nod, "I shall not be lured in by the evil shaman's unearthly seductive song, I must find the ancient Aztec temple and rescue the stone of eternal fire!" He said in a most confident adventure-y voice.

Firmin stopped walking and looked down at Jeoffery, then turned angrily to Andre. "Andre" he said, "stop hitting people on the head. You're lucky Jeoffery isn't unconscious."

"My name is Indiana Jones, not Andre!" The confused manager growled.

"Alright, just be a little bit less enthusiastic with the oar, Indy."

Jeoffery was clambering to his feet, groaning. "owww." Tears of pain sparkled in the corners of his eyes. "Hurts…"

Firmin frowned, "You probably shouldn't sing anymore, Jeoffery, just tell us your idea."

Jeoffery rubbed his forehead and slurred out, "Okay…" He shook himself and eventually recovered from the initial shock of his blow, then looked back warily at Andre before saying "Okay, yeah, here's my idea. So Christine is singing in _Don Juan Triumphant_, right? Well, that will surely lure the Opera Ghost out into the open. The Ghost Busters will be there, so they can ambush him, but knowing the Ghost he'll avoid the Ghost Busters and try to escape, but what we'll do is call the police so that they can stop him! We'll bar the doors and put police everywhere, and we'll use the opera to catch the Opera Ghost!" Jeoffery smiled and swayed a little bit.

Firmin nodded, considering, and then grinned. "Wow Jeoffery, that's actually a very good idea. We use lots of reinforcements so that we're sure to catch the Phantom. Good idea."

Clapping rippled through the crowd, Firmin clapped the Vicomte on the shoulder, and the walking stopped. The mob of people broke up and they began to talk to each other. Firmin tried to wrestle the wooden oar from 'Indiana Jones' and Jeoffery went over to sit on a fake horse, a set piece from a previous opera. He kept on smiling, very happy that he had had an idea that people actually liked. He had had a good idea. That had just made his day, or year, or probably his decade. Usually when he had a good idea, like 'Club Fop', people would just laugh at him. He was so happy.

Suddenly the Joker stalked toward Jeoffery. He had been part of the crowd, trying to find the Batman. He hadn't seen the Bat all day and was aching for someone to terrorize. Jeoffery was right there and looking happy, so the Joker went over to him. The Vicomte looked up and continued to grin. "You're the Joker! It's cool to see you again!"

The clown narrowed his eyes, "Why are you wearing that stupid smile, boy?"

Jeoffery shrugged, "I dunno. You're smiling too."

The Joker let out a sharp cackle, "That I am" and he grabbed the patron by his neck, pulling his face up to stare into the Joker's dangerous black eyes. He took a small knife out of his pocket, flipping it open and laying the blade against Jeoffery's cheek. The whole motion was fluid and practiced, the Joker had done it time and time again. "Do you wanna know how I got these scars?"

Jeoffery had kept grinning through the whole thing. "Ooo, yeah! I do wanna know!"

That caught the Joker by surprise. His hand holding the knife dropped several inches away from Jeoffery's cheek and he blinked. "Wha?"

The patron nodded like a bobble head, gazing at the Joker with that loopy grin. "Yes I wanna know! Pleeeeeeeeeeeease tell meeeeeeee!"

The Joker snarled, holding Jeoffery a few feet away from him, turning him around. "Just for not acting scared, you don't get to know" he growled, and kicked the Vicomte in the ass, sending him 5 feet through the air to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. The Joker laughed. A few people from the crowd noticed, and they laughed along with the sadistic clown. Jeoffery got up and trudged back to his wooden horse, the smile on his face disappearing.

The Joker smirked and licked his lips, turning around in a small circle to observe the crowd. Most had turned away from him and were talking to each other again. Firmin had given up on taking the oar from Andre who was shouting something about the Bigfoot being an incorruptible symbol and the Mayan's ancient Bologna Temple.

The Joker noticed that someone was making their way through the mob, shouldering in-between the chatting people and coming up to him. The man was an inch or two shorter then the Joker with black hair and green eyes the color of dollar bills that had been run through the washing machine. He wore dark blue dress pants, a button-up blue western shirt, and a crisp black suit jacket. Their were wrinkles on his fore-head and the corners or his mouth, and his eyes looked a bit too knowledgeable. He looked just like an average guy from the time period that I (your wonderful author) reside in. He gave the Joker a smile, which made the Joker a tad bit uncomfortable. Why was nobody in this place afraid of him? "Hey," said the man, "You're the Joker! Wow, could I have an autograph?"

"What?"

"An autograph! I've got a pen, and paper here somewhere…" the man said, digging through his pockets.

"Why?" asked the Joker, not liking the fact that he was confused.

"Because you were great in The Dark Knight! Wow, I love that movie! You're such a genius, Ledger, it was an Oscar worthy performance."

"Movie?"

"Yeah, sure! You're the Joker, the bad guy in the movie The Dark Knight."

"I'm not in a movie…"

"Sure you are! You're my favorite character!"

The Joker frowned. Had that guy called him a movie character? He had never acted before… "I have no idea what you're rambling about."

The man looked completely unperturbed. "Well, your life is a movie. You're just a character, a writer just made you up. Just like all the other people in this place. The Batman, The Phantom of the Opera, Christine, Sweeney Todd, none of these people are real. You don't exist. I'm from the real world, and I get to watch you all on the television screen. So can I have you're autograph or not?"

The clown's face twisted into a sick scowl, and he pulled a revolver angrily out of his pocket. He thumbed back the hammer and pressed the opening of the barrel against the man's face, directly between his eyes. "I wouldn't say another word about this movie crap, it'll be you're last."

The man's eye's widened in fear and yet he squeaked out, "But it's true!"

The Joker gave one sharp, barking laugh and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed around every crevice of the backstage. The sound seemed out of place, as if the opera house hadn't heard it many times before. The scarred man shoved the gun back in a pocket, smacking his lips in satisfaction and saying, "I am very real, sir, and no you can't have my autograph." The crowd of people had jumped at the sound of the gun and now they all stared at the Joker. He didn't pay attention to them for the moment, looking down at the bullet hole in-between the eyes of his corpse with distaste. He sighed, "I didn't get to savor the emotions… Oh well, he had to die quickly before he got me really pissed off." He turned to a random woman in the crowd, looking down at her. "You don't want me really pissed off." The woman shrunk back from him, pressing against the people in the crowd behind her. He laughed and gave the body of the 'real' man a kick.

The Joker observed all the people standing there, now paying rapt attention to him, with looks of scared-stiff fear in their eyes. "Boy does this remind me of Bruce Wayne's fund raiser" he said to himself under his breath. That gave him an idea, the people here were finally acting afraid of him, maybe now he could squeeze some information out of them. The sadistic clown paced in front of the crowd; looking at each person he passed in the eye for a quick moment. Some looked away, some shuddered. Even the concussed Andre was being silent and still. The Joker was establishing his authority, since he didn't have his henchmen with him to keep the people in line. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen," he purred. "I'd like to ask you all a question. It's a simple question, really. Where is the Batman?" He waited for a reply with one eyebrow raised.

A man in the crowd spoke up, "Who?"

The Joker sighed in exasperation. "The Batman! You know, a guy who dresses up in a giant black bat suit, with a mask and wings and stuff?"

"We've never seen anyone like that" Said Reyer, who was part of the mob.

The Joker then realized that maybe people hadn't seen the Batman around here yet. He tried to think of a person who would know what he was talking about, and remembered the girl in the cemetery. "Okay then. There was a really cute brunette with curly hair that was in the graveyard a few days ago. Anybody know where she is? I'd like to talk to her."

Quickly Meg said, "You mean Christine?"

The Joker nodded and snapped his fingers, "That's her name"

"Oh she's probably in her dressing ro-…" Meg trailed off as she realized that telling him that might have been a bad idea. The Joker grinned and urged her to continue. "But I couldn't go get her for you" she lied in a small voice.

The clown pulled the revolver out of his pocket once more and several people gasped as he pointed it at Meg. "Oh you can't?" he asked softly.

She gulped, "I mean of course I can!" and darted through the crown to go fetch Christine Daae.

"I thought so" the Joker said with a smirk, lowering the gun but keeping it out of his pocket.

A moment later Meg returned, shoving people out of the way as she led Christine through the crowd. "What are we doing, Meg?" Christine asked.

"This creepy man with creepy makeup wants to talk to you." The dancer said as she got to the edge of the crowd and pushed Christine forward so that she stumbled up to the Joker. She met his eyes nervously and the Joker was again reminded of Bruce Wayne's party, Rachel Dawes standing there and looking at him nervously.

"Well hello beautiful." He said, letting his voice lower and come out in a purr. He smoothed the green hair out of his face, black eyes sparkling. Christine bit her bottom lip, shying back the slightest bit as he observed her. "Can I ask you a question, sweetie?" he said delicately, and yet dangerously.

Christine tensed, "I don't want to know how you got the scars." She said in a trembling voice.

He looked vaguely annoyed, "No, no, a different question. You remember the Batman, no?" She nodded. "Good. I just want to know if you've seen him around here. What happened to him after he ran out of the graveyard?"

Christine visibly relaxed a bit. "Erik told me that the Batman followed him all the way back down the road, but once he got into the opera house Batman lost him and walked off down some random hall way. I would expect that he's still somewhere in the opera house."

"How do you know he hasn't left?"

"The Batmobile is parked outside the opera house."

The Joker's eyes widened, "Really? That gives me ideas…" he muttered to himself, then turned back to Christine. "Thanks. I'm gonna go see about that. Here," he said, taking something out of a pocket inside his purple trench coat, "is my card. If you think of anything else, call me." He took her hand and put a joker card in it, then turned around and briskly walked away, whistling to himself.

Christine blinked and turned to the crowd of people, who were starring at her with an array of different expressions on their faces. Meg stepped out of the mob and pranced over to Christine, taking the joker card out of her hand and turning it over, examining it. It was just a normal joker playing card, and she handed it back to the soprano, saying "You know the weirdest people, Christine Daae, you really do."

**A/N: I have solved my chapter name problem…instead of 2. Chapter 2: All I Ask of You…it's much simpler to say 2. All I Ask of You. **

**I cannot tell if this was clever…or if I was just un-clever before. Ah well! XD**

**Hope you're holidays were great!**

**You know what would be an awesome present from you guys?? A review!**


	33. A Genius Plan?

A Genius Plan?

The grand entry hall of the opera Populaire was empty, sunlight shinning in through the open windows and making the gold finish in the room glisten.

On one end of the hall, Sweeney Todd walked through the double doors, coming to visit Erik. His head was down as he walked and he was muttering to himself about one thing or another. On the opposite end of the hall, the Joker walked through a hall way and started down the marble stairs, twirling an aerosol can of spray paint in his right hand. Neither of them was watching where they were going, so when they got to the middle of the foyer the barber and the Joker ran headlong into each other. They stumbled backwards and landed on the ground shouting profanities. They both growled, "Watch it!" and looked up at who they were growling at, rubbing their heads.

"You're that demon barber" said the Joker with an edge of anger in his voice from being knocked over.

Sweeney Todd didn't acknowledge that the Joker knew him; his eyebrows were raised in surprised recognition. "You're the Joker!"

"Yeah…"

"Why are you here?" the barber asked, suddenly confused.

"I'm trying to find and terrorize the Batman. He's my archenemy, you know. You are familiar with the whole hero vs. villain, good vs. evil thing right?"

Sweeney Todd shook his head, "No, I know why you're here, what I'm asking is why are you _here_? In Paris."

"Oh" the Joker scowled. "That stupid Bat will not go back to Gotham city!"

"Wha?"

"Yeah, I don't know how he found this damn place. Or why I followed him here… but now he will _not_ leave! It's not like Batman's a huge opera fan. I hope."

"Yeah."

The Joker continued to toss the can of spray paint from hand to hand, and Sweeney Todd watched it with interest. "What's the spray paint for?" the barber asked softly and a little suspiciously.

The Joker gave a half hearted shrug and looked down at the label as he said, "Uh, I'm gonna graffiti the Batmobile… actually. It's parked outside the Opera House."

"I noticed," said Sweeney casually. "But that's probably not the best way to capture the Batman."

"Well yeah, I'm going to figure something else out to get that job done. I just want to watch him cry when he comes out and sees what I've done to it…" The painted man said with an air of satisfaction.

"Okay, I get you're point. I have an idea, though, that would catch you the Batman guaranteed. Really, he couldn't resist." Sweeney Todd said with an air of hushed excitement.

The Joker mulled it over for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, then he nodded and the two men huddled together. Sweeney Todd whispered his genius idea into the Joker's ear eagerly. Both of them had enough common sense to know that if they had said the plan out loud, someone would have heard. The barber finished talking and the Joker laughed in delight. He slapped his knees and exclaimed, "Excellent. Excellent! That is gonna work!"

Sweeney Todd nodded and grinned, and then his expression turned concerned again. "But you didn't hear it from me. I _mean_ it; you didn't hear it from me. Erik would _murder_ me if he found out that I'd screwed up his opera."

The clown narrowed his black rimmed eyes and said "Oh I came up with that genius plan all by myself."

"Thanks" said the barber with a grateful nod of his head.

"Don't thank me. I'm not compassionate, I don't do favors. I like taking credit for good ideas, is all. Usually they're mine anyway, so this works out great." He paused for a moment and then said "I gotta go, a new episode of _Extreme Batmobile Makeover_ is about to start…"

Sweeney Todd grinned, "I love that show" and the two murdering villains went their separate ways after the Joker slipped Sweeney one of his cards. What a wonderful cast of characters we are hearing about, friendly readers! Our vast variety of murderers, our fop, our Ghostbusters, our caped crusader, our managers, and our phantom! Speaking of which, where is dear Erik?

**A/N: Kind of short, but necessary to get us where we want to go =^-^=**

**Are you reviewing? Do I have to break out my desert metaphors again??**


	34. To the Erik Cave!

A/N: To my readers, I am so sorry! How many months has it been? It's been months, that's bad enough. Quite a while back my computer got a virus, we had to send it to some place in Iowa where the extracted all the data, it was touch and go for a while weather I would even get this fic back...but I did in the end, thank goodness. We got a new computer, but it's a Mac, and it the files aren't quite compatible, so it's taken me a while. And then I just got busy. There's really no excuse, I just have to say that I'm really sorry. I will never leave this unfinished though, guys, I promise. I may have lost some readers...but if you're still there, can you ever forgive me?

Alright, alright, maybe it's best just to get on with the story? Get on with it we shall.

the Erik-cave!

We haven't seen Erik in quite a while, have we? He is the main character. Sure we like hearing about all these other characters, the Joker and Batman and Sweeney Todd and such, (well I don't know if you guys like reading about them but I like writing about them) but Erik is our main character and we love him! Well here, now we join him once again. *squee*

We find Erik walking down the dark, damp, cavernous hallways on the way down to his lair. He came to the glassy lake and got into the gondola, reaching his cave house quickly. The Phantom climbed out of the little boat and took off his cloak only to find that he was not alone in his cave. The Batman was sitting in one of Erik's chairs with his feet propped up on Erik's table casually reading a copy of Superhero's Illustrated. Erik blinked in surprise, what on earth was Batman doing in his lair, and how the hell did he get down here anyways? Erik went up and boldly stood next to the Batman. "What are you doing in my lair?" He asked with his eyes narrowed.

Batman turned his head and raised his eyes up to Erik's, closing the magazine and laying it on the table. "Your lair?" he asked in his deep, grating, Batman-y voice. "I don't know what you're talking about, this is my Batcave."

Erik blinked again with further surprise. "Is that cowl on too tight?" he wondered. "This is not the Batcave."

"Sure it is."

"No. It. Is. Not. This is a cave surrounded by a lake 7 stories below the Opera Populaire in Paris, France. You live in a cave full of bats under Wayne Manor in Gotham City. Don't ask me how I know, that's not the point. The point is that you need to get the hell out of my house." Erik said, working hard to restrain his anger and wariness and keep his voice calm.

The Batman didn't say anything for a few minutes, surveying Erik with an odd look and then glanced around the lair before saying, "Well… you know what, I have to go talk to Gordon, so I am gonna leave…"

Erik, looking vaguely relieved, swept his arm to the side to gesture to his moored gondola. "I don't know how you got in, but here's your way out."

"Ahh," said Batman, "The Batboat."

The Phantom rolled his eyes, "No, the gondola. My gondola. Now out!"

Batman gave a huffy sigh and stood up, his black cape sweeping behind him as he left Erik's lair. Erik watched him leave, still frowning slightly. Once he was out of sight the Phantom stood on the lake shore fore at least 15 minutes, allowing the Batman enough time to get out of the basement passageways. Then he walked slowly back to the chair the Caped Crusader had been sitting in and settled down into it. Erik stared at the table and at the copy of Superhero's Illustrated laying on it. He glanced guiltily around his cave, just to make sure, and then picked up the magazine and began to flip through it. Apollo slithered out from under a bookcase and looked around to make sure Batman was gone before trotting over to Erik and jumping up on his lap. Apollo seemed to scan the magazine as well while Erik scratched him behind the ears. Like owner, like cat, I suppose.

A/N: this one's short, I know. I'll put up more as quick as possible. Flame me and tell me how disappointed you are? Or, you know, what you think of the story...


	35. Extreme Batmobile Makeover

35. Extreme Batmobile Makeover

Batman stomped angrily through the Opera Populaire's sparkling grand foyer and

threw open the door, stalking outside. A few people who had been milling about the entry hall gave him questioning looks and followed curiously after him. The caped crusader walked down the stairs and went to the left, where his car was parked off to the side where carriages would drop people off on gala nights. Batman went up to his car, looked up at the Batmobile, and felt his jaw drop onto the ground. His Batmobile was, of all hell on earth, pink. Someone had spray painted the Batmobile bright pink with 'HA HA' scrawled across the front in big red letters.

For a moment Batman stood there, horrified, before he screamed so loud that 7 floors underground Erik jumped and fell of his chair, sending magazine and cat tumbling to the floor. "Crap," he said, picking himself up and brushing off his pants. "What the heck is that screaming?" Apollo had streaked off under a cabinet in surprise. Erik looked up at the ceiling, wondering where the incredibly loud and drawn-out scream was coming from. He decided to go investigate, so he threw on a black cloak and got into the little gondola.

A few minutes later Erik was walking through the grand entry hall, toward the source of the yelling. He noticed that other people were emerging from hallways and doors, also curious about the screaming, which continued to go on and on and on…whenever Batman would run out of air he just sucked in another deep breath and kept on shouting. Erik stood outside amongst the small crowd of people and raised his eyebrows upon seeing the Batmobile. None of the other people paid attention to the Phantom, who was just standing with his arms folded over his chest and his head cocked to the side slightly. Something about the whole situation was just odd, like seeing somebody dress up a plank of wood in doll clothes, or watching one of those mutant pigs with just one eye, something about it makes you feel weird on the inside. Un-natural.

For a few moments Erik just stood there until someone sauntered up beside him and he looked down to see Christine smiling at him. "Christine" he said, arching his visible eyebrow.

"Hi Erik!" she said brightly. "Is that the Batman?"

"Correct."

"And his Batmobile is pink?"

"Indeed."

"And everybody is just standing out here watching him scream?"

"So it would seem."

"That's what I thought."

"You would think that it would be lower-pitched…" Erik mused.

Christine's sweet laugh bubbled up out of her throat, and she grinned at the Phantom. "You would, wouldn't you?" Then her expression changed, becoming slightly more serious. "You know, I haven't seen you in forever, Erik. What have you been doing?"

"You just saw me a couple days ago at the graveyard" he pointed out.

"Yeah, but all you said was 'did I miss the duet?' then galloped off and left me with the crazies."

He rolled his eyes, "Because the stupid Bat sprung at me out of nowhere and came tearing after me. Besides, we talked once after that when you asked me what had happened to Batman."

"But that was just for like, five minutes. I actually want to talk to you. I miss you when we don't see each other."

Before he really processed what Christine had said, Erik replied, "Yeah, well, I'm- wait. Did you say that you miss me when we don't see each other?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why?"

She sighed in exasperation, "Oh my gosh, Erik. You're such a retard."

He scowled at her, "I am not a retard. That's offensive. I had a 4.0."

"You are too. Erik, you wouldn't know love if it bit you in the a-"

Suddenly Madame Giry's harsh voice rang out over Batman's scream, interrupting Christine in mid-insult. "Christine! Come here! You're late for rehearsals."

The brunette soprano groaned and spun on her heel to scamper up to her ballet instructor and away from Erik.

The phantom stood there for another moment, blinking in the direction Christine had gone, twinges of regret shining in his dark eyes. The yelling rang in his ears as he folded his arms across his chest. Erik's expression was a mix of confusion and anger and distance and satisfaction all in one, but regret still sparkled in his eyes, along with annoyance due to the Batman's endless cries. He was about to pull out a watch and check how long he had been standing in the noise when someone else walked up and stood in front of him.

"Hello Erik" Nadir said in a peppy voice that was lined with an edge of worry as he looked into Erik's eyes.

"Hey Daroga." The Phantom said with a sigh.

Nadir's eyebrows creased, "You look down."

"Do I?" Erik asked half-heartedly.

"Yeah. What can I do to help?"

Erik sneered and muttered something quietly and violently under his breath. Nadir gave a small little crooked frown and met Erik's eyes again, squinted at what he saw reflected there, and cocked his head to the side a bit. "You have beautiful eyes, Erik" the Persian said, his expression quaint and serious.

That snapped Erik out of any emotional cloud he had been stuck in, and his eyes widened in absolute horror. "Nadir," he said in a terrified whisper. "Don't say things like that. You better not get all Brokeback Mountain-ey on me, because I told you before, I'll kill you slowly and painfully if you ever try to-"

The Daroga cut him off, shaking his head "No, Erik, no, I didn't mean it like that. You looked glum; I wanted to give you a compliment. Can't a friend tell his friend that he has pretty eyes?"

"No he cannot." Erik said, his tone still dangerous.

Nadir held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Okay fine. I didn't know anything else to compliment on…" he muttered. To change the subject he then said, louder, "That Bat's screaming is getting really annoying. How long do you think he can go on like that?"

Erik frowned as the previous subject was dropped, but replied, "I have no idea. Maybe he thinks if he screams long enough the Batmobile will miraculously turn black again."

Nadir nodded vaguely.

"Well I can't take it any more. I'm gonna go back in the entry hall." Erik growled, and turned on his heel to walk up the marble stairs toward the Opera Populaire's double doors. Other people had begun to grumble and were walking in as well, but none of them took notice of Erik. Nadir only paused for a moment before darting after the Phantom, jogging to meet Erik's pace until they were walking side by side.

They stopped and leaned against the railings, chatting as they watched people dispersing into various hallways and doors. "So are you ever going to go back to Persia?" Erik asked casually.

The Daroga shrugged, "I don't know. There's not much for me to do in Persia at the moment, I want to see how the whole Ghost Busters thing plays out."

Erik scoffed, disgusted, and replied, "There does not exist in the entire heathen world a trio of men quite as unintelligible as the Ghost Busters."

Nadir just blinked.

Erik sighed, "I'll say that in terms you can understand. They're incredibly dim-witted and unbelievably immature."

Nadir thought for a second and then nodded slowly.

Erik rolled his eyes in great exasperation, "Okay how about this; they're almost as stupid as you."

Nadir growled from somewhere deep in his throat but Erik just gave him a crooked little smile, "At least that one got an appropriate response."

The Persian was just about to snap back with some hurtful remark of his own when a door at the other end of the hall slammed open and the Ghost Busters them selves burst out. Erik gulped and jumped up behind one of the gold statues of half naked women, pressing his back against its back and hoping he was out of sight of the Ghost Busters. Nadir backed up a few steps before sitting on a stair and trying to look casual. Erik glanced over his shoulder for a moment to observe the exterminators, who had run to the middle of the hall and were glancing around.

"Where is that screaming coming from?" Ray wondered out loud.

Peter shrugged, "I don't know."

Egon spied Nadir and went over to him. "You there, Persian." Nadir raised an eyebrow and Egon continued, "Do you know where this screaming is coming from?"

Nadir nodded and pointed to the doors, "Outside."

Egon walked back and told Dr. Venkman and Dr. Stantz and the three men hurried out the door to find the yelling. The double doors stayed open behind them, letting Erik and Nadir watch as they ran outside to find the Caped Crusader still crying in front of his pink Batmobile. Erik went over and leaned on the doorframe once he was sure the Ghost Busters would not be paying attention to him. Nadir did the same, and they could hear what the Ghost Busters were saying to each other, because they had to yell to be heard over Batman.

"Who's the guy in the cape?" wondered Peter.

"Maybe it's the ghost!" Ray suggested at once.

"I don't think so" said Peter, "he's got that weird black suit… and I don't think the Opera Ghost wears that weird cowl with the pointy ears. He just doesn't look anything like the phantom we saw before."

Egon nodded, "Yeah, that's not the Phantom of the Opera, but I think we should get him anyways."

Ray turned toward him in confusion, "Why?"

Egon shrugged, "I just think we need somebody real to chase and bring down, to get us back in the spirit. You know."

The other two grinned and nodded, "Yeah. Let's do it." Peter said enthusiastically.

So on Dr. Venkman's count of three they all let out battle cries that could just barely be heard over Batman's screams, and charged down the stairs with laser-things drawn. Batman turned around in surprise and his yelling ceased as he watched the Ghost Busters come barreling toward him. His ninja reflexes kicked in and he drew his high-powered magnetic grappling gun and a handful of sharp metal batarangs (your author hopes she spelled that right). He fired the grappling gun at Egon's ankles and the impact sent Dr. Spengler sprawling to the ground. Batman sent his batarangs at the other two, and they sliced through the Ghost Buster's cloth uniforms, giving Ray a deep cut on his arm and Peter a cut on his leg and a gash over his left eyebrow.

The standing exterminators screamed as Egon was picking himself up, and the three men looked at each other with terrified expressions. They glanced at Batman, who was stalking toward them with his hands balled into fists, and back to each other, then took of tearing down the street, screaming at the top of their lungs. Batman didn't pause for a second; he darted after them, chasing the Ghost Busters down the streets of Paris.

Erik and Nadir, still standing in the doorway and having watched the whole thing, were both doubled over in laughter. "Maybe that Bat isn't as bad as I thought" Erik choked out.

Nadir straightened up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Yeah!"

They stood for a moment grinning at each other and glancing down the road at the quickly disappearing specks that were the Ghost Busters and the Caped Crusader. Then Nadir randomly said, "You wanna go play a game of chess, Erik?"

The Phantom looked pleased, "You bet." So they walked down the familiar route down to Erik's lair and Erik's chess board, and on the way the Phantom asked the Daroga, "How is it that we're still friends?"

Nadir chuckled and answered, "On both out parts, patience with each other, but on my part, Aspirin. And the whole 'forever in my debt' thing helps, too."

Erik just gave the Persian a kick in the shin and said, "I'll bet you ten franks I win the chess game."

Nadir scoffed, "No way. I'm not that stupid."

A/N: Alright, now that I'm managing these documents, the 'bold' text doesn't show up on FanFiction...I think we're just gonna have to deal. The last chapter's title was weird too, no number...It's okay, we'll get through. Thanks to everyone for reading! I'm back!


	36. PrePreformance Jitters

36. Pre-performance Jitters

Christine was sitting on the floor of the chapel in front of the stub of a candle that was left standing by her father's picture and name. She lit it silently, watching the little flame flicker to life. Christine had been bored, that was really the only reason she was down here. She stared at the pretty flickering light, easily entranced by anything shiny. She just sat quietly by the candle for a little while, feeling vaguely sad for her dead father and vaguely excited about the opera, which was opening that very night. (Yes, that's right, faithful, friendly readers! Don Juan is here! Yay!)

Just then she heard footsteps coming down the stone stairs and looked over her shoulder to see Jeoffery standing in the doorway, looking somber. "Christine" he said, anxiety in his usually energetic voice.

"Jeoffery?" Christine asked, sounding confused and suspicious.

Obviously the vicomte read her tone of voice and posture wrong, because he wandered over to her side and said, still sounding distressed, "Oh Christine, I'm so sorry about all of this!" Christine's eyebrows creased in shock, but again Jeoffery mistook her alarm for distress. "I know you must be so scared!"

This only further bewildered Christine. "What? Jeoffery, I'm not scared." She replied.

The patron didn't pay her any attention. "I'm sorry we have put you through all of this," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But it's the only way!"

"Jeoffery-" Christine insisted, trying to interrupt him, but he just continued like he didn't hear her.

"We need you to be in the opera tonight, it's the only way we'll be able to draw the Opera Ghost into the open."

"Jeoffery, I-"more forcefully Christine attempted to interrupt, to no avail.

"Don't worry though, we'll make sure you're safe, there'll be hundreds of police there!" The vicomte persisted.

"I'm not scared Jeoffery!" She was practically yelling now.

"I know you're worried, darling, but you mustn't be. We're going to keep you safe! Please, love, we need you to do this for us!" And then he pulled her up and wrapped Christine in a huge comforting hug, patting her gently on the back.

Christine gasped and pulled her arms free of his embrace, pushing on his shoulders with enough force that the patron stumbled back away from her. "You retard, Jeoffery! I'm not scared!" She yelled at him, her face livid.

Jeoffery blinked and his eyebrows furrowed. He tilted his head to the side, like he was only now hearing what she said. "You're not?" he asked, confused.

"No I'm not! I'm fine, Jeoffery, honest. Now will you leave me alone?" She insisted, her tone still exasperated.

"Oh. Well, all right. Good luck tonight, then!" He exclaimed, suddenly changing back into his exuberant, chipper self again. He waved enthusiastically and skipped out the door, leaving the soprano alone in the chapel.

She sighed deeply and walked slowly over to the stain glass window. She sat deliberately down on the stone floor again, leaning carefully against the cool colored glass. Christine gazed up at the high ceiling, thinking about Don Juan. She couldn't believe that it had come up so quickly, but the day was finally here and she was surprised to find that her stomach had filled with butterflies as she thought of Erik's opera. She had thought that she was used to performing, over the stage fright, but apparently not. Christine was suddenly hit with a longing to talk to Erik about the performance. She stared at the angel painted on the stone wall, remembering when the Phantom had first sang to her in this very room, when had still believed that he was an angel sent from her father. That seemed like so long ago to her now, and of course she now knew that he hadn't been sent by her father, but Erik was still her Angel of Music. She smiled as she remembered singing with him, and grimaced when that brought Don Juan sharply back into the front of mind.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that when a voice rang out, echoing around the little chapel, she jumped violently in surprise. "Nervous?" It called, with a laugh in its musical, velvet voice. Christine recognized the voice immediately, a grin springing back to her face.

"Erik!" she called, "Is that you?"

He sighed, "No, it's David Letterman. Of course it's me, Christine."

She blushed, "Sorry. But what are you doing?"

Christine could almost hear his shrug as he replied, "I was a bit bored bored, and I thought that you might want some support before the big performance."

"I just can't believe that the opera is tonight. It came on so fast, and I guess I am nervous."

"Don't be," said Erik soothingly. "You'll do wonderful, as always."

Christine sighed, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "You always say that."

"Yes, because you always do wonderfully." She gave a nervous little laugh, and after a pause Erik said "You have an adorable laugh."

Christine blushed, but she laughed again. "Thank you. I guess. Um… I was wondering just how you'll be partaking in the opera tonight." She said, trying to sound nonchalant but really wishing that he would tell her, just to ease some of her stress.

"Oh no," he replied, suddenly stern. "No, that would ruin the whole surprise. I've spent a long time coming up with this plan. It isn't really as if I have anything better to do, but still."

Christine scowled, and then she realized that they had a final rehearsal this afternoon. She held up her wrist and frowned at the bare pale skin there. They really need to hurry up and invent digital wrist watches, she thought to herself exasperatedly. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked Erik.

There was a short pause and then Erik said, "It's 3:02."

"Shoot, only 13 minutes! I've got to go Erik, see you." Christine got up and slowly walked out of the chapel, glancing around the room once before dashing up the stairs.

"Have fun singing with the whale." He called to the empty room. Erik sighed from his position on the other side of the wall of the chapel. He could sit there and it was incredibly easy for him to throw his voice so it would echo around the little, high-ceilinged room. The Phantom got up and started off down a secret passageway back to his lair.

After taking one wrong turn and ending up in Firmin's closet, Erik backtracked and continued on more carefully, eventually getting back to his cave. He ended up in his own closet, which was what was supposed to happen. On his way out of his closet he grabbed his costume for tonight, taking it over to a table where he could examine it. This ensemble had been hard to come up with, but it did look exactly like Piangi's costume, which was essential. If people were stupid enough, they might not even notice the difference. Erik had debated simply stripping Piangi after he killed him, but he had decided against it with force. For one, he didn't want or need to see that. Not to mention that he would need tighter pants then Piangi's to pull this entire stunt off.

He wasn't a bit worried about tonight, because if anything went wrong he had a trap door and a chandelier that he had messed with quite a bit in the past few days. He was completely confident, so he messed with a few more things and got the last details ready for the big opening night of Don Juan Triumphant.

Soon it was 7:00 (The Phantom didn't really know what he had spent four hours doing) and Erik knew that people would start arriving in front of the Opera Populaire any minute, dressed in their finest clothes with no idea what they were about to see.

Erik went over to the table where his costume was laid out, only to find Apollo curled up on the deep maroon fabric. "Argh! Dammit, cat, get off of my clothes!" Erik bellowed at the kitty, striding over and throwing him out of the room. Apollo slunk away, looking extremely put-off, and Erik examined the light orange fur sticking to his costume. "What a hell of a time to have my god damn costume covered in god damn cat hair." He muttered angrily to himself, riffling through drawers until he came up with a roll of duct-tape. Erik wound a piece around his hand, sticky side up, and set to work removing all traces of Apollo from his costume.

When that was done he changed, fixed his hair, and found the black mask he would need for the performance. Erik actually swept the drape away from one of his full length mirrors and examined his ensemble, making seductive faces at himself for a bit. Once he was convinced that he looked the part of Don Juan, that his pants were tight enough, and that he could pull off an even more seductive face then usual, he stepped away from the mirror and let the curtain fall back. He was almost embarrassed about making faces at himself, but he got over it. Besides, he had looked pretty gosh darn seductive to himself.

Erik walked over to the little table where he kept his little scale model of Don Juan Triumphant, complete with figures of himself and Christine and everything. He didn't play with it though, of course not. On his way across the room Erik picked up a lighted white candle. He bent down to peer at the model, and with one dunk of the candle into the little pool of gas in the middle of the tiny stage, set his model on fire. The hungry, searing flames were just the thing to get him in the mood for his fiery opera, and he could even feel a maniacal laugh coming on as he watched the stage burn.

A/N: I have began to gradually go back and edit previous chapters...not a major overhall, but I'm trying to keep them from sounding like they were written by a seventh grader. (They were.) I'll put the new ones into the story eventually; that first chapter is soo not up to par. In the mean time, Thanks for reading! Drop me a quick review! I want to hear ANYTHING you have to say.

More chapters up soon!


	37. Don Juan NotSoTriumphant

37. Don Juan Not-So-Triumphant

It was the opening night, and the huge red velvet and gold auditorium was filled with opera-goers. Behind the curtain the stage was decorated with draping red cloths and fake flames, and there was a bridge across the stage with spiraling staircases on either side. Backstage crews were rushing around, getting everything in place, while the people in the audience were chatting together, eager for the opera to start.

The managers were seated in a particularly large box in the center of the horse-shoe shaped auditorium. They had a lot of guests, so they were using a different box then their usual box 2. Firmin and Andre had the best seats, closest to the rim, and seated around them were the Ghost Busters, who were anxiously bouncing on the edges of their chairs, never ceasing to scan the hall. Also in the box were some special guests who had managed to get a seat with the managers, be it by money or luck depends on the guest. There was Nadir and Sweeney Todd, who were seated by each other with their heads together, conversing deeply. Also seated together in the box, taking up the rest of the seats, were David Cook (the American Idol), Commissioner Jim Gordon (from Dark Knight), Tim Burton (the director), James Hettfeild (from Metallica), Russell Crow (the actor), and Severus Snape (the potions master). Vaguely odd, I know, but no one seemed to notice.

The door of the box opened and Jeoffery bounded inside, going over to Firmin and Andre. "Hi!" he said cheerfully. "I can't believe the opera's about to start! I can't wait to see my dear Christine."

Firmin nodded, counting the crowd instead of looking at the patron, and Andre was busy trying to lick his elbow. Jeoffery continued, "I was wondering, may I sit in your box for the performance?" he asked hopefully.

Firmin did look up now, scanning his full box before looking at the Vicomte. "No you can't, monsieur Vicomte, there's no more room in this box. Besides, you have to sit in box 5."

"Oh no, not box 5!" Jeoffery whined. "Why do I have to sit there, I wasn't even bet anything. The last time I sat there the Opera Ghost scared me and then threw me against a wall!"

Firmin just looked exasperated as he said, "Well that's to bad Jeoffery. You have to sit in box 5, you're the patron, and you're the third point of this story's love triangle. Now you may be a pretty lame third point considering Christine doesn't even like you, but the third point has to sit in box 5 at such a pivotal point in the story that this is. So just buck up and get over there." The vicomte looked very confused by all this talk of love triangles and was still so scared that his bottom lip was quivering. Firmin sighed, "Look, Jeoffery, you'll be fine. We've got the Ghost Busters, and there are police everywhere. Nothing will hurt you."

And it was true, there were police everywhere. There was at least one policeman in every box, there was an officer at ever door, and they were spaced out evenly along the walls. There were still policemen outside, and four were stationed in the entry hall. There were plenty of officers backstage, to keep close watch on the performance.

Jeoffery looked around the auditorium at the men in blue uniforms with the guns held across their chests and nodded wordlessly to Firmin, then shuffled out of the box. A moment later he appeared in box 5 and met Firmin's eyes with a resigned look, then he sat down next to the police officer and pulled out a box of Milk Duds and started popping them into his mouth.

Andre had paid attention to none of this, and suddenly he exclaimed "Look, Firmie, I'm licking my elbow!"

Firmin glanced over at him and then barked, "No, Andre, stop it! That's your shoe, not your elbow!"

The confused manager glanced at his leg, which he was holding up to his face, then dropped his foot back to the ground in disappointment. "Razzlemuffins!" he exclaimed violently, crossing his arms over his chest. Firmin sighed and turned away from him, putting his head in his hands and waiting for the show to start.

He didn't have to wait for very long. So suddenly that it surprised some people, Reyer made a sweeping motion with his arms, and music began. The heavy red velvet curtains were pulled open, and a few of the innocent opera goers gasped as they saw how the stage was decorated. In a seething mass center stage the performers had begun singing. They wore black, red and white and in the middle of the circle was Carlotta with an elaborate ebony wig and ruffly dress.

Erik was perched somewhere in the rafters, listening, and Christine was standing to the side in the right wing, watching as the performers danced and sang:

Here the sire may serve the dam

Here the master takes his meat

Here the sacrificial lamb

Utters one despairing bleat

People in the audience began to mutter to each other and some even covered their ears against the harsh, fierce new music. No one had ever heard music quite like this, and it was unlike anyone had expected to hear. They came to the opera anticipating flowery, flowing ballet music, but the opera that Erik had given them was truly full of fire, fire and passion.

Firmin glanced around at the crowd in horror, they were still looking uncomfortable as the music and singing continued. God damn it, Phantom, this opera better not be a bust, whether we catch you or not, he thought to himself.

As the performers sang,

Serve the master so that when

Table, plans, and maids are laid

Don Juan Triumphs

Once again!

They scooted to the side of the stage, and the curtain at the back of the stage opened for a moment revealing Meg and Piangi, who was dressed as Don Juan with absurd makeup. Meg scampered to the other dancers wearing similar red dresses, twirling her skirt a few times. Piangi tossed her a bag of money which she caught, twirled her skirt once more, and danced off stage. She had no idea who was currently waiting behind the curtains...

A/N: Don Juan! Yaaaay! The ascent to the story's climax begins!

I shall respond to ALL reviews this time...because I realized I haven't responded in a while, and that's a right shame, that is. Because I love you all! *creeper grin*

So review! Tell your friends! Tell your cat! Bake some cookies!

And just to remind everyone, incase you've forgotten...I don't own any characters/franchises/people mentioned! Except Jeofferey. And plot. All plots are belong to me :)

Sorry for the weird author's note. More up soon! I'll post a nice chunk of chapters next time, instead of just one. You know...eventually I'll have to actually start writing this again to get it finished...fancy that. It's been some years now. I love you Erik...heh. Heh. *twitches*


	38. We Interrupt This Program

A/N: Hello there! I'm such a bum, I'm sorry...why haven't I updated sooner? The world may never know. But here you are! Now begins a string of absolutely absurd cameos...I'm rather embarrassed for myself, but I'm much to lazy to re-write anything. I have also FINALLY figured out how to re-activate my review alert email things, so I WILL properly respond to all reviews from this point on.

XXXX

38. We Interrupt This Program…

Piangi walked over to Passarino, who was the same rotund shape as him, but with a beard and not so much absurd makeup.

"Passarino faithful friend

Once again recite the plan"

Piangi sang in his baritone voice, putting his hand on Passarino's shoulder who sang,

"You're young guest believes I'm you

I, the master

You, the man"

Piangi gave a theatrical laugh and began to sing:

"When you met you wore my clo-"

And then, very suddenly Piangi was interrupted when out of the red and black curtain behind him, Batman strolled out. He looked around for a moment, as if he wasn't sure where he was or how he had gotten there. Then he spotted Piangi, and exclaimed, "Look at that guy's makeup! He must be the Joker!" And the caped crusader lunged at the unsuspecting opera singer. The audience was extremely confused, they didn't know whether or not this was part of the show. Most of them suspected not, and whispers began to break out.

Firmin watched in horror as the Batman and Piangi tussled. They rolled around on the stage floor for a minute before, from the same curtain that Batman had come from, the Joker sauntered out onto the stage, flanked by two men in creepy plastic clown masks. He took one look at the Batman and burst out laughing, "That whale is not me, Batsy."

Batman looked up from Piangi, gasped as he saw his archenemy, and then stood up, letting Piangi lay back on the floor and wheeze. "What are you doing here, Joker?" Batman asked in his deep voice.

The Joker grinned maniacally, showing his teeth, and replied, "You'll see. Just stay still right there for one minute, okay Batty?"

Batman didn't say anything, just stood there looking slightly skeptical. The audience and the police were all so surprised that they just sat in their chairs, watching stupefied as the Joker turned to one of his henchmen and said, "You go get her" and then pointed off into the right wing. Christine gasped in dismay as she realized that the man was headed for her, and she couldn't do anything quickly enough before he had clasped her arms together and was shoving her onstage, over to the Joker.

Erik watched in horror from his perch in the rafters as the man in the clown mask restrained Christine, and he dropped down on to the ground, graceful as a cat as he landed in a crouch. They had interrupted his opera and harmed Christine, and that made him angry. Erik waited backstage, watching to see what the Joker would do next. Batman was doing the same thing.

Meanwhile, the Joker had scanned the auditorium, looking for someone in particular. His eyes met Jim Gordon's, and he grinned even wider. He turned to the second henchman and muttered, "Go up there quickly and get the Commissioner." The man nodded, and disappeared. He was back momentarily with Gordon restrained as Christine was. The Joker observed his two captives for a moment before saying to his henchmen, "Alright, take them away." Batman and Erik watched in horror as the two men dashed off with the hostages.

The Batman stalked over to the Joker, but Erik was quicker and he darted over to the scarred man, gripping him by the collar of his shirt. "Where did you take her?" He bellowed.

The Joker grinned and laughed, "Oh we've got another one. You men in masks are always the same…so violent"

Erik snarled, about to shout at the clown some more, when Batman shoved him away and gripped the Joker by collar himself. "I've done this before, let me handle the interrogating" he said firmly to Erik, who only growled. Batman turned back to the Joker, "Where are they?" he roared.

The Joker rolled his eyes and sighed, "Relax, Batty, I'm gonna tell you where they are. Both of them. And don't worry, you should have time to rescue both of them, this time."

"Tell me where she is!" Erik cried desperately.

"Fine, fine, here you go." Said the clown. "He's at 186 Fleet Street and she's at 12343454343212343234, Avenue Z. Gosh that's a mouthful. Well? Go get them!" He exclaimed, flinging his arms in a gesture to get them moving. Erik didn't even dwell on the first familiar address, he and Batman immediately sprinted out one of the backstage doors. The Joker gave them a few seconds before he dashed after them, out the same door.

The audience was entirely stunned into silence by this, as were the performers and the orchestra and the police. Everyone just sat there, still and quiet as statues, watching the empty stage. Firmin eventually got his brain into gear and realized that the audience would soon wake up and demand entertainment, and he had to find some way to keep them subdued until Batman got back with Christine. He hadn't recognized the other man, but hopefully he would help the caped crusader rescue the opera's star.

Firmin glanced around his box for an entertainer. His eyes rested on Metallica singer Hettfeild and American Idol David Cook, and he quickly decided on Cook. He sprang up and grasped David by the shirt, dragging him out of the box. They ran down through the auditorium to the stage, and just in time too. The audience was beginning to recover from their surprised daze. Firmin pushed David Cook on to the stage, and the American Idol just looked at him in confusion. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"Sing!" Firmin exclaimed.

David found a mike and music began to play, his type of modern rock fusion-y music. Hesitantly Cook sang, "I've been waiting for my dreams to turn into something I could believe in…"

XXXX

A/N: Okay, extremely embarrassed for myself, not just rather. I really liked David Cook at the time, you may notice...there's really nothing I can say in my own defense. Review, yes?


	39. Kidnapped

39. Kidnapped

Erik and the Batman tore down the street, keeping pace with each other. (You ask, how can Batman keep up with Erik? Well, as your author, I must admit that I really don't have a reasonable explanation for that. Let's just say that he got his new batsuit, and it rendered him much more mobile.) As they raced past buildings on their desperate mission, Erik said, "Okay, I'll go after Christine, you get Gordon!"

Batman shook his head, "No. The Joker said we have time to rescue both of them. He wouldn't lie about something like that, that's not how he works. We do this together." He said, his words broken with his heavy breathing as they rounded a corner.

Even though he didn't like the Batman, Erik found that he trusted him on this, and he nodded.

186 Fleet Street was closer, so they wound up there first. The Phantom and the Bat skidded to a stop outside Mrs. Lovett's meat pie shop and hesitantly pushed the door open, not sure what to expect.

The shop was empty of customers except for Jim Gordon, who was sitting in one of the wooden booths. He was staring at the counter, his expression unreadable, where Mrs. Lovett was prancing around the kitchen wielding a huge wooden rolling pin. She rhythmically whacked a piece of pie dough and smacked the cockroaches crawling across her cutting board as she sang,

"The worst pies in London

Even that's polite

The worst pies in London

If you doubt it take a bite"

She flounced over to Gordon and gestured to the gruesome looking pie that was resting on a plate in front of him. Extremely hesitantly, the commissioner picked up the pie and took the smallest bite possible. He immediately turned green and began gagging.

Seeming satisfied, Mrs. Lovett dashed back behind the counter and hit the pie dough again, singing

"Is that just disgusting?

You have to concede it

It's nothing but crust

Here drink this, you'll need it"

She absolutely relished doing this. Occasionally, when they had a slow day and a single man would come into the shop, she loved pulling out the old nasty pies full of mold and cockroaches. It was great fun trying to see how long it would take them to puke or rip their ears off, and when a guy in a purple suit and creepy clown make-up had dropped off the police officer, she had snatched at the opportunity.

Erik relaxed and walked into the shop, realizing that there was no one there except Mrs. Lovett. "Excuse me!" he said loudly, and Mrs. Lovett stopped singing, looking up at him. Erik attempted to look friendly and said, "Hello, Mrs. Lovett. Uh, would you mind if we took Jim Gordon?"

Mrs. Lovett cocked her head to one side. "You're Erik, aren't you? I remember you." She said, examining his costume instead of his face. With distaste Erik noticed how she licked her lips.

"Eh...yes, I am. I'm friends with your boyfriend," he said, trying to subtly remind her what he was not there for. "Can I please have Gordon? Time is of the essence."

Mrs. Lovett blinked a few times and then responded, "Oh, yeah. Take him."

Erik nodded and grasped Gordon by the shoulder, yanking him up. Before then, Gordon had been solely focused on trying not to puke, but as the Phantom dragged him outside, he snapped back to reality and paid attention. Batman followed them. Through the whole thing he had just stood by the door looking mildly interested. The three men began to run immediately as they got to the street, the Commissioner keeping pace.

"Thanks for getting me," he said between puffs of heavy breathing. "Where are we going?"

Erik answered, "We're rescuing Christine from the Joker, like we did for you. She's at 1235…oh I don't know. Just follow us."

Gordon nodded, "Okay.

The trio raced down the street, desperation driving them onward.

The Joker was standing over Christine, who was restrained only halfheartedly to a wooden chair. They were in an abandoned shop; it was a single room that was completely empty, with gray walls and dust coating the floor. It was obvious that no one had been there in ages.

The Joker looked down at Christine, who actually looked quite bored. "I'm sorry I had to kidnap you and all this." He said, almost thoughtfully.

Christine twisted in the chair to look up at him. "If you're sorry, why did you kidnap me in the first place?"

"Well, I had to kidnap two people so that I would have time to get here before the bat did, because he would be busy rescuing the first hostage. I also wanted to kidnap you so that I could, you know, cover all the bases. I wasn't sure weather the Batman would care about Gordon enough to come save him, so I took a cute girl too. Superheroes can never resist a damsel in distress. Apparently it worked, but I had no idea that you would draw Erik to come rescue you as well. You must be important to him if he didn't trust Batman to do the job right." The Joker mused.

Christine just looked vaguely uncomfortable, and she turned back around. "Yeah."

The clown narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't seem at all scared by being kidnapped. Usually you girls are screaming and crying and begging for mercy."

"I'm really used to being kidnapped by creepy men by now," She said stiffly. "Erik used to kidnap me all the time."

The Joker laughed, "But surely you don't think Erik is creepy?"

Christine almost smiled. "You're right, I don't. I did at first, though. I mean, jeez."

That was when the door banged open and Batman, The Phantom, and Jim Gordon rushed inside. The Joker grinned, and Christine looked up, her eyes sparkling as she saw Erik. She didn't even notice his different mask, she was just relieved to see him. "Christine!" he breathed, relieved as well.

The Joker cackled, and walked around the chair to the trio of men. "See," he said to them, "You did make it in time. What did I tell you Batsy?" he glanced at Gordon, and his coal black eyes gleamed. "Nice to see you again, Commissioner." Gordon just grimaced.

The Joker turned from them and stalked back over to Christine. To everyone's surprise, he unlocked the chains that held her to the chair and allowed her to jump up and dash over to Erik. She gripped his arm and he put a finger under her chin, looking into her eyes. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked, concerned.

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

The Joker chuckled. "Okey-dokey then. Christine, Erik, Commissioner, you're free to go. Thanks for your help."

They all looked surprised by this, but Batman most of all. "What?" he asked, sounding incredibly confused, which marred his deep threatening voice.

The Joker looked at him like he was missing the punch line to an incredibly obvious joke. (Oh, hey, and he's the Joker! Ha! Oh…never mind…) "Well I have no more need for any of them. You're the reason I did this, Batty, the only one I want now is you."

As Batman was trying to think of all different ways you could interpret that phrase, he didn't notice the Joker snap his fingers and back up until he was being attacked. A dozen men in the creepy clown masks sprung up from the shadows in the back of the room and lunged at Batman, tackling him to the ground. The caped crusader didn't even have time to scream.

The Joker immediately began to cackle maniacally. Erik didn't stick around to see the rest, he grabbed Christine's wrist and ran out the door. Gordon followed them as they raced back down the street the way they came, back to the Opera Populaire. Erik wasn't sure how long they had been gone. As he ran the Phantom was vaguely aware that he was angry at the Joker for interrupting his opera, but Batman had interrupted it first, so he supposed that he was vaguely angry with Batman as well. He was also vaguely grateful that he had grabbed his black tailcoat on the dash out of the opera house, hoping that it would cover enough of Piangi's costume that he could still pull off a good shock during the opera. Christine seemed preoccupied enough anyways, thankfully.

They got back to the opera house quickly, and Erik had soon found the right door which led them backstage. He pushed Christine out on stage without another word, staying hidden himself. He gave Gordon directions back to his box and then climbed back up to his perch in the catwalks.

Christine stumbled out on stage to find that David Cook was still singing, and the audience looked thoroughly entertained. Cook finished his song, "More then a name, or a face in the crowd, I know this is the time, this is the time of my life. Yeah, the time of my liiiiiife!" The audience stood up and applauded, and then they saw Christine trip onto the stage and broke out into a fresh round of clapping. Firmin let out a relieved sigh and dashed up on stage.

He addressed the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, that was David Cook!" David took a bow as the audience applauded politely once more. Firmin continued, "Thank you for your cooperation as we got this taken care of, I hope you were entertained by monsieur Cook, but now our star has returned. I pray for your forgiveness, but I think it would be better just to start the opera again. I apologize, the performers will be ready in just a moment," he said, glancing backstage to where the singers and dancers were clustered around Madame Giry, who nodded back to Firmin. "And once again we shall give you, Don Juan Triumphant!"

So the manager dashed off the stage, taking David with him, and went back to his box. The red velvet curtains fell back in place behind him, covering the stage as the performers took their place. Firmin settled back down in his seat, leaning over to the Ghost Busters and saying, "Well that was a bloody mess. I hope everyone forgets about it when the show starts again."

"Surely they can't just forget that whole thing?" Egon inquired.

"Oh no, they're all quite unintelligent, trust me. They forget things."

And they did. As the music and singing began again the audience became completely immersed, letting the disruption fade from their minds. Christine pushed the whole ordeal away, wiping it from her mind as she tried to calm her nerves, ready to go out on stage. Soon it was as if the kidnapping had never happened, and the only thing in her mind was Don Juan, and what was going to happen on this clearly-to-be-pivotal night. Even Erik pushed it out of his mind, listening hungrily to his music being played.


End file.
